I’m on the deck, the pups ever vigilant, well
at least Vespa is – that’s her job. Hunter wants to sit in my lap - he knows my moods better than I do. It’s hot, sticky, muggy, the air is still, clouds rolling in for
the storm that is sure to come, but I’m tired of being inside.
And from where I
sit I can’t help but see the flowers that Glenn planted, in the container he
picked out. These Daisies were planted
sometime in May, and at first didn’t do well, maybe too much water, I don’t know. But since he’s been gone, they have thrived…
blooming, perky heads lifting their faces to the sun, leaves bright and crisp…perfect ...and alive.
Seriously?
Really? Why now? I suppose, why
not? At least I remember…and I suppose
that’s something…….when they die back in the fall part of me will die again I’m
sure of it…
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