I woke with a start, a smile.
Today you’re 90. What does that feel like? To be so close to 100. To be here and not.
We lit a candle and prayed. Please don’t let the swirl in the sea, the eye devour us.
Keep us safe. Keep. Us.
Since this is all we know.
And yet. We honor los muertos.
Tonight on top of some mountain, under some sky, in a garden or forest.
We’ll sing happy birthday, happy birthday…
Here. In the heart of fall, we begin to harvest what will keep us through the winter.
Can we undo and unlearn and forgive? Unravel and loosen. Knots.
Surrender to summer’s farewell kiss.
The last drive to the Oregon coast before fall.
I think Bello sees you more than I can.
Looking off and away. He returns always with love.
I love you, don’t you ever forget. Mija.
I will make avena and arroz con leche. I will stay warm.