“Mary asks me what I will do with this one wild and precious life. The only times I want to disappear is into the fog gracing the hillside; to be reborn a green blade of grass, drinking up the Oregon rain. A life of absorbing and observing. I know what it feels like to be a tree reaching my statue arms out, slowly engulfed by soft moss– to surrender to the earth and bow to beauty. Mary, I am so afraid of what death steals from us. I don’t want to forget the warmth of mornings where my dog snoozes beside me, the golden glow of my lover’s brown eyes. Mary, tell me you were able to keep it. Tell me, when you left, you didn’t forget a thing.”

“I love you, my darling. Try to be cheery when I come back (but I love you when you’re low, too.)”