Calm and loud were the sounds of the wheels on steel as they traced the hills, and I walked. I recall a day when you said you’d pick up no matter what, and I wonder: As I walk these hills, have you thought I might be thinking of you? Distant, perhaps some Sunday in the future where we lay ourselves on the spots of sunshine that speckle the living room floor and take the best, the best sleep in the world, we might regain our alliance. For with all of the up and downtown days, I keep your nature with me even in the wind, even when we’re snowed in, even when I’m gone walking hills. My thoughts exactly: Thank you, for keeping my glass full and my mind sharp, delegating me a hit of hit-or-miss, for the fields and the meals and quality kindness, the showers of reassurance, you’ll get there someday! I climbed and contemplated going home—home home—but no, I can’t abandon this sweep of certainties, of spontaneity, of sudden surges of appreciation. And then I…I call…no answer, and I’m certain you’ve already fallen asleep.
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