After Evelyn’s sudden death,
I often go to Yosemite. At night I walk into the meadow by myself and lose
myself in the stars that seemed impossibly close. Constellations drift
overhead. Everyone had turned in for the night, even the animals, except for a
few who want a late night snack, and I try not to think about them. The meadow is
so quiet that I can hear the hoot of an owl on the other side of the valley and
the footsteps of what I think is a coyote trotting by.
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love this, Mark.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Megan.
ReplyDeleteThis is it exactly. Thank you for putting it into these words. Everything gets redefined as survival, doesn't it.
ReplyDeleteYes, survival, in a community of friends that we gather, no matter how far we're separated by distance.
ReplyDelete