Tuesday, July 3, 2012

ten signs of life, in no particular order

I'm still paying her bills.

She's still telling me what to do.

I've still got lemons from her tree.

Her mail keeps coming (then again, so does his).

There're fragments of poems in her notebook that she's clearly still working on.

Her friends still call and some come over.

I see her, especially at the opera.

She still gives wild and sometimes lavish gifts.

The Sunday NYT is on the doorstep with alarming regularity.

There's no stone or plaque or any other sign of her departure.


  1. Some of these shall pass, others will linger until someone is paying your bills.

  2. There are also signs to the contrary that I've been trying to avoid. Who knew it would be so troubling, even with years of preparation.