Always so lovely, so warm, remembering her as I knew herm deeply – taste her, still, on my lips, remember her as if she was still here, in the next room.
Nothing ever has been before, needs to be, ever again.
Imagination, our only boundary on what life, or just this month, can be.
New months, spectacular opportunities to choose, making new memories of joy or reliving difficulties past, such simple choices that determines which way our river flows, how each day goes, how we weigh, at each day’s end, those many woes.
A great new day to be tasted, not wasted.
A great fine day of air and sky, hopeful and open for business – this day will show the way, lead the way, starting today, it is June, it will last all day, from moaning till noon and then on to midnight. First days of weeks, first days of months are exciting to me – not because it is a change of calendar page but because it is a fresh one.
I’ve never dated a girl named June, but I always thought that would have been nice you know, to enjoy someone and remember them not just occasionally, but all month long during such a love month, this one – startin’ today.
A new month is adventure.
A new month is bland canvas.
A new month is bridging the gap from spring to summer, letting morning in the window and showing the past the door. No slammed, but put behind us.
Forward is the only gear, forward our only direction. Forward does not ignore past, but is not tethered there.
column written/ published from Calgary
morning walk: 5C/41F, blue sky, silent breeze, morning chill, Gusta strutting tall grass where the big dew lives, we walked a strange paved lane joining two strips of dreary back yards such that the dirty pavement improved the look of all those pitiful messes . . .