My darling wife told me quietly that our marriage of eighteen years was over. It was
difficult to comprehend even though it had been on the horizon for a long time. Horizons
aren’t supposed to get closer.
Her hands were small and lovely. Beautifully made, like the rest of her. Just holding hands
was saying something. Actually it said everything. The rightness of things, dharma, in all
its simplicity. Just holding her hand was to feel complete. To be as it should be.
Sometimes you can change what’s there, what’s been done. Other times what’s there
changes you.”
I posted the card. There was no response. Of course. Damn her rightness.The
unwavering belief she was always right.
The End
John A Wilson, May 2017
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