A Valley of Golden Corn

Things have been falling out of and into place more than ever. She doesn't want to put words to subtle changes, that they may be fragile as the most delicate of wings. It is the theory that when we grasp, the thing slips away, and so she silently begs to keep her hands from making fists. She …

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Grief

Last night I was struck by an intense feeling of the impermanence of everything in this life. I let it hit me late at night in the bedroom in the dark, safely encircled in strong arms. Ana and I had been to a funeral in the morning for the grandmother of a dear friend- it …