OCR Text |
Show Moon - 240 slight pressure. I barely breathe. Anything could startle off this silent trust that gathers like a flock of nervous birds. Her fingers are long and slender, not very clean. I wish for a way to connect myself to this hand with a touch that might do some good. I wish I knew a way to speak Father-Mother God, or even Jesus, outside of the catch-phrases of the day. There is a song forming deep in my throat, and the song is Her song and His song and the song of flowers and the song of people who've died but still live all around us. The music presses up from inside me, as if I learned it before I was born, but 1 can't remember how it goes. Maybe it will come to me someday, but it won't be soon enough for Lisa. The birds are gone. The heat goes out of my fingers. She pulls her hand out of mine, strokes my arm. Then she leaps up, says, "He's come back." She looks down at me and smiles. "Eventually, they don't, you know." Lee and Caleb come into the cottage carrying groceries. Lisa runs to Lee, takes the bag from him as if she's been waiting to do exactly this. I feel jealous once again, but this time it's because I wanted her to myself a little longer. Caleb and Lee drive me to Woodstock for my afternoon doctor's appointment. I haven't told them why I need to see a doctor. They looked worried when I told them where I had to go, but didn't ask. I've offered to buy them lunch, so we arrive in town early and go to a sidewalk cafe. The town of Woodstock has been made self-consciously picturesque with brightly painted neo-Victorian storefronts, pots of flowers on brick walkways, everyone wearing sandals and stylish jeans. We order food from spare hand-scripted menus. California cuisine has just come in. |