Promised Story

This has been a hard week. Saturday night was particularly hard. In putting together things for the tournament this coming Saturday, I had to go through some boxes. Item after item with our names, side by side. Dragons, and green and gold, or green and gold woven with black and red. Over and over. Pairs of items, carefully made, selected, bestowed. Or that we'd sat with and he said, "I want to keep this," instead of, "Let's give this to...."

And so I sat on the floor of the room, surrounded by objects, deciding what to part with, and with each movement of item here to there it was as though I was breaking some little part of him out of my life. They are just things. I know that. Parting with them does not diminish what was, what remains, but it feels that way. So to move out of that place of resharpened loss and pain, I offer up a small story of hope.

( The Elephant in the Grass )