She’s telling me about one of her cats. Taking her to the vet yesterday, the reason she couldn’t call. I’m waiting for a break in the flow of words. How are you? HOW are you? How ARE you? The waiting, she says, is a prison sentence in itself. Life on hold. Life uncertain. Will it be just one of them? Or both? Who will look after the cats? Who will look after an aging parent? The architect is ready with his plans for the house she and her partner want to build high in the fog-draped northern mountains. Where I’d go from the smog-choked capital city, on my next trip. We’d sit out in the courtyard and look at the peaks now appearing and now not, as the fog rolls and tumbles not far above our heads. Drinking cardamom-laced hot tea, snug under my shawl; snug in the warmth of the caress and compassion
Watching the Fog
Watching the Fog
Watching the Fog
She’s telling me about one of her cats. Taking her to the vet yesterday, the reason she couldn’t call. I’m waiting for a break in the flow of words. How are you? HOW are you? How ARE you? The waiting, she says, is a prison sentence in itself. Life on hold. Life uncertain. Will it be just one of them? Or both? Who will look after the cats? Who will look after an aging parent? The architect is ready with his plans for the house she and her partner want to build high in the fog-draped northern mountains. Where I’d go from the smog-choked capital city, on my next trip. We’d sit out in the courtyard and look at the peaks now appearing and now not, as the fog rolls and tumbles not far above our heads. Drinking cardamom-laced hot tea, snug under my shawl; snug in the warmth of the caress and compassion