on a fathers day or birth

I just finished Sula, by Toni Morrison.
I really liked both the story and the language.
I really liked the longing, and the connection, and the lies we tell ourselves.

I am missing people, and feeling lonely, wishing someone knew me enough to try to unravel, and not for their own need, though, of course I'd want to also.

Sometimes you make mistakes, say the wrong things, mean things differently than they come across, bend yourself sideways to make messy fits neater, come out all tangled and wonder why you bothered, fleeting glimpses of smiles and tears, remind you of the curled warm shapes, the way a piece can slide in place, even without completing the puzzle.

I am in-between things, and being in-between things means a lot of time to contemplate what unnatural fits feel like, and also why they call so strongly, whether friends, or work, or someone else's purpose flung on you... direction, momentum, feeling collected, and I don't just mean internally -feeling welcomed...