You’re like celestial Velcro. Actually not even celestial. You’re stickiness right here. You’re like the brambles that stuck to my clothes when I would walk through an open field on the way home from school. There was once a gas station there, where car repairs happened. They closed and the place got overgrown. I suppose to grown-ups it looked like a mess. To me it looked like beauty, and the parts that stuck to me and came home with me felt like You.
You bring us together, and you connect us to each other in a trillion ways a minute. And by being the sticky stuff, your sticky self, right here, You save our lives. You save us for life.
So, sticky, velcroey, brambly God, thank you. Thank you for sticking around.