Funny how we hang onto relationships, habits, things…one-sided conversations when words spoken tumble through the air and waft like a feather into un-hearing. That’s how I feel about you. I’m hanging onto you. I throw stray thoughts – some spoken, some unspoken – in your direction. You know what I’m talking about: the thoughts and mumblings that pop up on birthdays, holidays and the in between spaces. And you respond with annoying silence and a comforting steadiness. I imagine the stories you could tell about the nervous first-time mother who picked you – you specifically – just because you were you. Nearly sixty years ago, that first-time mother picked you because you didn’t have sharp corners. She’d later say you were perfect because you were just the right height to support little people who’d be liable to fall at any moment and gentle enough to break the inevitable falls without damage. Three babies followed the first and I wonder what conversations you heard that m...
Finding out everyday that sometimes, late is right on time.