The first thing I said on the first long distance call I've made in months, “Jealousy ambushed me when I read your poem.”
I heard him bringing himself back to wakefulness, barely recognizing my voice across his drowsiness.
I pressed on, "Then I read your status, that you can only know how different I am by comparing me with the others, how bright is my start, by having me lain amongst the others. That's when I lost my jealousy and loved you again as you are.”
Love, like every other religion, is a practice.
