*

It is raining.

The woman on the verge is packing up. She’s got a one-way ticket on the next flight outta here.

She’s gotta go take care of her momma.

*

She is the best human I know.

*

I been sick a week now, coming out the other side of it just as the woman on the verge is going down hard. And now she’s got to endure that whole joyful airline experience while she’s sick as a dog. And then when she lands she’s on the clock taking care of mom.

All I gotta do is lay around in my own mess, missing her.

*

It don’t seem fair, cuz it ain’t.

*

I think we have watched twenty-seven episodes of Battlestar Gallactica in the last three days.

We ain’t no damn good.

*

The wild woman of boreno yet remains in her gilded cage. She passed her six months a couple of days ago. We are damn proud of her.

And the tiny, crushed bird in our hearts that once was hope yet stirs, flapping its crippled wings and bleating, turning in circles, somehow still stubbornly alive.

You don’t get to choose what happens. You just get a say in how you carry on about it.

*

It is a sweet kind of sadness to sit in a quiet house while the rain falls all around it and your woman packs her bags and she’s leaving, but she’s not leaving you.

*

Godspeed, woman.

***

Namaste.

***

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