I am nearing the end of drafting my memoir about Dave’s demise from cancer four years ago. This bird on the wire reminds me of myself, singing my solo song as the dark clouds break up.
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The morning after the lightning strikes that set off the conflagration across the West. Stuck inside because outside air is too sick to breathe, mining images I haven’t shared before.
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I love how the ocean washes away the imprint my feet made. It makes me think of how we can start again, try again. With fires all around us and the sick air that has kept me from the beach: we may not be able to reverse the damage, but we can still limit it.