28 September 2016
This afternoon the sky was so opaquely and emphatically blue I imagined I could eat a nice fat slice of it. Perhaps with a garnish of Douglas Fir and a side of creamy white cloud.
So thought I while lying in the shade of the fir clump at the cemetery, having just finished muscling 28 daffodil bulbs into rock-hard parched soil in the mid-day sun.
What an odd circumstance in which to find myself. Planting flowers around the graves of my ex-husband and my son. This continues to surprise me. I can’t help watching myself from a slight remove, trying to believe this is actually what I’m doing:
“See, there she sits–the lady who’s ex-husband and son died,” I as observer say. And amazingly, I have to recognize the truth of this–she is me.
Vaughn's Mom 