It’s 68 days since my brother passed and today I pause, slip between the seams.

It’s been a busy week.  Last night we attended a meeting of our local Tam Design Review Board.  We have local say on development in our area, and it felt comforting to gather with thirty or forty neighbors most of whom have lived here, as have we, for many years.  We moved here in 1978 when Chris wasn’t yet one, and Jeff just turned four. At the time, many of our neighbors had moved here after the end of WWII and literally built their own houses.  They’re gone now, passed in their homes, and now, here we are, attempting to hold the fort on greed and environmentally disastrous development. We live on a non-county maintained road without street lights and sidewalks in an area called Little City Farms.  All of this is obvious when people move in but then some want to change the character of what we oldsters love.

When I walked to my neighborhood book group Tuesday night, I spoke with a neighbor, Paris, as we looked down into her yard.  A doe looked up. Paris said there are two fawns and a bobcat who spotted looks similar to the fawns living there.  Harmony.

I sit here now balancing like a teeter-totter on that space between up and down, feeling a tender ache in my heart. We gather tomorrow to scatter the second half of the ashes of my brother.  Knowing that, feeling that, I pause and gather myself together and reflect. I wonder how one captures a pause in a photo, and there’s that word capture.  In this moment, I’m setting all photons free, and allowing them to wave my mind-body within the comfort and curtain of fog.

Embraced in fog


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