Voices 21

I didn’t think I’d be able to stay here after John died.

 

I thought I’d be scared at every noise I heard.  Every creak of old board in the heat or in the wind.  I thought I’d tough it out for a few months, just to show that I could do it and then make my way south to some condo on a waterway down there.  But time moves on, and faster, really, than you can keep up with it.  I still have friends around and I am close to the stores and my church.  I could walk if I had to.  Where else can you do that?

And if the evenings are warm I turn on the light on my back deck.  It’s off the second story and overlooks the steep hillside down to the river.  On clear nights I can hear voices drifting up from the folks on the pleasure boats and I look also at the marvelous sky.  The white moonlit clouds and fading contrails and the stars that twinkle cold, just like they always have.

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