Forty-eight was a big hump to get over, not as bad as forty five where I sat at a microphone all night and played multiple versions of Andrew Barber's "Adagio for Strings" (the saddest song ever) and then a Chopin "Death March", Wah-wah. And what hit me at forty-five happened to a friend of mine at forty-six where she spent a day in bed, unble or unwilling to move much, missing work, crying and refusing (unable?)to go out to dinner with her husband. And they have a good marriage and a beautiful house, and children who love them, but it was just one of those days for her. The end of something, intangible.
The geese were back this morning and wandering in the field across the street before smoothly flying away, passing over 3015 South Providence and out of sight.
"..Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine." Isaiah 43:1..
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