And I never wanted anything from you, except everything you had and what was left after that too.

the dog days are over
florence and the machine

In a dark theatre lit dimly in yellow, we waited for uncle grandpa’s hoodilly to start. The children chattered incessantly, but their mouths moved and laughed silently, the sound muted by the boom of music coming from other worldly speakers. I had heard this song before, but not this loud. It shook my bones. The children, were they singing?

I struggled not to cry out. I had felt this before, the power of words singing to me, about me, with me.

Today I was walking home in subzero temperatures with my dog and I was afternoon dreaming of how I walk the same path in the heat of August. I wondered, will I ever walk the same path in the heat of August? Will I die before my dog? Will I see the children I love have children of their own? Will I travel to all the places I have yet to go? Will I see the Cubs in the World Series? Will I see the final season of Game of Thrones? Who will be waiting for me, welcoming me, comforting me when I am lost?