I'm fired up to write, though I said to myself I'd limit my posts to Sunday. Maybe I was up too early, maybe too much coffee, maybe the rock and roll band I played with this morning, Adrian on the rock guitar, Naomi on the piano and dancer, along with me. I can't think of a better way to spend a Friday morning.
You must all come to visit my forest. Naomi and I pass under it on our way to Peter Pan. I am so tickled to have my own forest. She named it after me because I must duck down to walk under the curb trees.
The more difficult life is, the more precious are small gifts of attention to the soul. Naomi and Adrian are honorary grandkids, or more precisely, I'm a fortunate neighbor included into their home and family in time of unusually great need. It is a terrible bond we have. Maybe I have more in common with their dad now, though I relate to their YiaYia and grandpa too. Loss does not describe what we all share.
Alexandra should have a forest named for her. Richard, too. But we the survivors carry on, bending under the boughs.
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