Writing

Our shared life has been an exchange. When we feel a wind of interest, a creative image unleashed, an extra dose of energy to try again, it is a friendly, good-natured echo of you. . . You left behind an orange tree heavy-laden with fragrant fruit every spring, an avocado tree stretching into the sky, a passionfruit vine tangled and strong, a hibiscus plant as thick as a curtain. You leave behind us.

The discarded mailbox with leftover mail in my yard was a time capsule, a relic, no longer existing in its purpose but a reminder of its fun

When we are faced with the decision of what to do now, what questions do we ask? How do we offer and express ourselves?