Ignore the melodrama. We’re flying today to New York for our annual dose of theatre.
This year’s trip is different. We’re joining friends for the first time, and we’re leaving bereavement behind — the past two weeks have carried away two relatives/friends, two women I called aunt, two people whose actions helped weave the fabric of my childhood.
I’m trying for poetry, because death doesn’t respond to very much else. But poems are seeds that need time to grow, so.