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| this morning's harvest |
Ocean stretching to the edge of nowhere.
The beach its own sea of pebbles.
Sea glass everywhere.
And there was the trip to the county recorder's office to pick up Dan's death certificate. His daughter and I went together. Most of the people in line seemed to be there for marriage licenses. Not us. Check it over, the clerk said. Be sure everything is correct. That's how I saw my name. There I was, half-way down, listed as "significant other." My name not spelled exactly right, but oh well. Significant. It seemed like an honor to be listed there.
On and off all day I thought of grief. Is it like an ocean, vast and deep? A mountain one must climb to get to the other side? For now, I've settled on crater. I'm not even sure I'm at the bottom--or still slipping downward. I make runs at the slope out. I do things. Patio clean-up down. Haze buffed from a section of the fireplace. Artwork from Dan's place re-hung here. A cookbook of his shelved with my own. A merging of households. Significant.
