T.

(Image by britishgrenadier.)

Update on R. is that everything looks good.
A bit of recovery, as a HA! (heart attack) is a shock
to the system both physically and psychologically.
He e'mailed me and said everyone is asking
if there's anything they can do, and what he would
really like is a cherry or blueberry pie. Hmm.
(No dietary restrictions except for caffeine and alcohol.)
I'd make him one but I don't think it would mail well.
His wit & sense of humor are back in full force, apparently!
(Hey, wait a minute, his brother knows how to make
a pie. Nelson? Are you reading this?)
I didn't raise no pie-fools.
(And yet, I am a fool for pie.)

For the first time in a week, the knot
in my stomach is beginning to unclench.
I'm going to sit outside on our bench
and let these Atlantic breezes sweep through me.

I've been washing the bedding, towels, etc.,
in anticipation of our next round of guests.
There is something incredibly grounding
in the folding of clean white sheets. It's
such a plain, ordinary act. This morning
I made beds, square corners every one.
I've heard them called "hospital corners"
but that's a bit clinical. And the towels
from yesterday are still flappin' on the line,
still wet. This is an experiment. I know they'll
dry eventually, but in which month, which year?