Day Eight.

I drove home past a herd of goats. Some thoughtful cows lying under a tree, chewing their cuds. Boys and men playing soccer together between makeshift posts. Table Mountain shimmering in the distance. 

I thought about the people in my life, the ones who mean the world to me.
How I struggle to say it sometimes.

And then I thought of something
someone said to me a while back.

"Love". No matter if you can't muster the "I" and the "you". That puny little word has the power to stand on its own.