Dear Friends,
Today Zing and I walked by the river again. There’s a blacktop path for bikes, with softer shoulders for walkers and joggers. Then we veer off to a sandy path approaching the water. We go as far as a steep drop full of holes; By now Zing knows the routine: he lies down at the crest and looks over to where he’d like to run. At this point my knee would never let me clamber that angle. (But I’m exercising, so maybe someday, Zing!)
From that point today I looked over the grass to the water and felt myself missing Clark and cried.* Missing is different from sad. Then I turned around, called Zing; we started down the path we'd just walked and saw this — a natural valentine.
Love,
k
*I tell you about these tears because maybe you cry too — for Clark or someone else, or something traumatic in your life. Then you know. -k
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