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.
Occasionally, some of your visitors may se