a year of you
This year required a lot of bottles. I’m not sure how many, I didn’t count. More than last year, but I didn’t know you last year, which still seems strange.
I needed a very large one for tears cried. More than most years, but the whispered adorations bottle is almost as substantial, and I’ve never needed a whole bottle for unexpected moments of bliss before. It balances, I think.
It was a multitude of bottles sort of year, varied in shape and size and contents.
Now they’re all sealed and catalogued, ready to be stored on their shelf.
I have plenty of empty ones for whatever next year will bring.
I wonder how many of them you’ll be in.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.