True story. At the trust meeting, my daughter said: “She has no say.” I reached into my bag and…

on Saturday mornings for reasons that were never fully explained.

Past the cemetery where Gerald was buried near the east fence under an oak that was already dropping catkins in the thin spring light.

I stopped.

I sat at the cemetery for a while.

I had not planned to.

I just found myself there.

Car in park, engine off, watching the oak.

Gerald had been the continue reading …