As a child I would spend hours watching the clouds. Time spent staring at the sky was always time well spent in my child’s mind, as a never ending procession of elephants and horses, dinosaurs and giant birds flew past, sparking my imagination. I was always especially thrilled if I caught a glimpse of Pegasus and I would soar away with that winged horse of legend.
My house has lots of windows and where I sit to write there is southerly aspect, I can see the western sky from one window and the eastern from another.
Some days there is not much writing and a whole lot of cloud dreaming happening.
A friend of ours, Paulie, died on Sunday. It was liver cancer and it was very quick, less than three months from diagnosis to his death.
The Spouse is very sad, but in the way of men he keeps his sadness locked down, deep inside. I held him yesterday as he cried his silent tears and then I left him alone to drink his beer and watch re-runs of MASH. I know that his sadness and his words will bubble to the surface, one by one over the coming weeks and I can wait for them. I can wait to comfort him as he needs it, without pushing, as I have loved this man for twenty five years and I think I know what makes him tick.
Life and death, death and life entwined in this dance we do.
As men in their fifties, men still young, friends of our youth die from cancer, three in the last six weeks, I see my Mother in my grand daughter.
Veronica has worked incredibly hard chubbifying Evelyn’s cheeks and she demands that you and I admire them internet.
Who am I to deny the demands of my first born?