My old friend.
My memory says we first met on a warm summer day when I was about four years old. We were … Continue reading My old friend.
Tag: Presence
…just one more breath.
I enter April full of life. She arrives in her twilight years. Now I’m locked in a familiar place. Her … Continue reading …just one more breath.
we choose.
It’s early Sunday morning. The sun is bright. The wind is brisk. It’s a sweater day — even if you’re … Continue reading we choose.
