(Originally written August 17, 2017) It rained for a week after Caryn died. Memory is a funny thing and can easily be manipulated to suit the stories that we want to tell, so maybe I am wrong, but I remember it as a soft rain, the kind of rain that you can stand under and… Continue reading The Breaking
Tag: riverwater
The stones in the middle of the river.
I pay attention to the sky more than I used to. For a long time now, I've seen without seeing. When I tell people I feel like I'm just waking up - this is what I mean. The cotton candy edges of clouds float across the ombre blue sky. To my left is light Robin… Continue reading The stones in the middle of the river.
Now We Are Beginning 