61Dec 19, 2014
In the moonlight, her eyes sparkle. Â She never wears makeup, doesn’t really even prefer it, but she made a concession tonight, for dance. Â Just now, as we leave the building, a brisk wind lifts a few errant strands of hair away from her ears. Â The stars rest glittery on her cheeks. I hold the door, […]
62Oct 17, 2014
I don’t know how much time I have left. Â Afternoon, and autumn leaves wander and twist to the earth, fluttering through the grass and along the sidewalk. Â The sun makes a blaze of the trees. Â I stop for a moment just to see, putting down my work, stunned by the fragility of life. Â I […]
63Oct 3, 2014
This week, a departure for Kevin and me, a Sabbath rest: Tucked away, pulled back from the busy road and held–but lightly–by the trees, we hide beneath the fog. Â Sound is magnified here, somehow, or perhaps it is that other noise removed leaves room for hearing birdsong, the cheeky chatter of squirrels, the deep-throated gurgle […]
64Sep 26, 2014
Deep, empty night, and we brush our teeth, looking across at each other with eyes like moons. Â We both feel hollow-carved, like vulnerable husks reaching hungrily for rest. Â I have no thought except for the feel of the sheets beneath my legs. And then, a crash. Kevin and I look at each other briefly, asking […]