When I say I’m praying for you, what I mean is I’m imagining you standing in the light of a setting sun, smile stretched across your face. I’m visualizing love like a mycelial web, threaded beneath you in joy and in sorrow, pulsing electric with kindness and strength you couldn’t create. I’m gathering up the grace that has carried me through my hardest griefs and letting it travel from my lungs to my lips, breath deep and slow, bridging the miles between us. I’m picturing the pain in my body and soul like a storm, lightning splintering across a giant sky, and hoping you too will meet your squalls with feral awe. I’m naming the reality of evil and naming you as good. I’m saying your name aloud multiple times a day, with a huge smile, and sometimes with tears. I’m chopping green onions and popping in a bite, blessing what is sharp as the bringer of flavor, trusting you will taste it. When I say I’m praying for you, what I mean is, I’m holding you as beloved in the hidden imagination of my heart.