not even my own, this time around.  i'm just thinking about the people i love, all the people who've been just a little broken along the way, who are walking as strong as they can just a little bit cracked... one of them e-mailed me tonight to tell me the minute-long message i left on his cell last week made his valentine's day, & i'd already almost forgotten i'd done it.  it's the littlest, tiniest things.  i've left my work mostly undone today to weave instead, cyberthreads, e-mails in from & off to & aim-connections made with people i haven't talked to in far too long whether i have anything to say or not, just to be there, just to close, metaphorically when the real thing can't be done, that gap between your fingertips and someone else's where if you're an energy-worker the almost-visible sparks leap to make the circuits that keep us alive.  they're broken, yeah.  we're all broken.  but so long as we're still weavers, we can keep us all together on the strings.  raise a glass, a spoon, an empty mug with room to fill with tea & share a cuppa for the ones you've gathered lately, the ones you have in reach, the ones you can still throw strings across the chasms to, & the ones you think have fallen away.  sometimes we find out after we've almost turned away that they're still there after all.