#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Brook Art

March Meadow

And so the clock goes forward and I am awake an hour earlier than I’d like to be. So be it. With discipline, I got out on time for my swim even though I didn’t really want to—well, my body was saying not yet, and my mind said, go. So I went. I walked to Kingsbury in the bright morning. There were low clouds over the meadow. There was sun on the fast running brook. I took my laps and returned home. All these walks without my Charlie. It has been tender. We lost Charlie and Brittany on February 28. Our elderly friends, gone to rest. My best friend, Charlie. I walk with him every day since. My daughter says dogs immediately become angels when they go. Friday I went to Connecticut to see my aunt and tell her about Brittany. She took it well and I was grateful. Tonight she left me a voice mail thanking me once again. I had a sort of writing day today. I went into my private office with some boxes of family archives and genealogy. I had a long time getting going with any spark. I went through files and found some lovely letters my father had saved in a file on me. Thank you letters I had sent, typed! to both of my parents at various times in my late teens, early twenties. It was special to recognize how intentionally I communicated my appreciating to them. I really felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere. But I found a file of my father’s that gave me just what I needed for a poem. Although it’s not yet a poem, it’s at the heart of a poem that’s in the works about my grandmother’s funeral. In fact I still need to work on it now to send it off for tomorrow. The whole family here for dinner tonight, and Wave home. I made chicken and wine, everyone’s favorite and it was much appreciated. Frank off tomorrow again. Mostly I am through the tenderest part of the grief for my Charlie and he is always with me at the river he’s named after.