I love imperfect neighborhoods.
I love imperfectly clean rooms.
I love imperfect books.
I love imperfectly made clothing.
I love imperfect answers.
I love imperfect feelings.
I love imperfect students.
I love imperfect friends.
I try to love my own imperfect production the same way that I love all the imperfect things around me, and it’s so hard, because I have such a nattering mean voice in my head that points out every flaw in everything I do.
I got dear Captain Cookie out of the shelter 3 years ago today. He had one eye and three legs and he was the best dog ever.
Someday perhaps I shall love all my imperfects the way I love everybody else’s.