Losing them, fixing them, forgetting to put them in
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After the diagnosis, dirty dishes pile up in the sink, but the dog still needs her walk. She pokes me with her cold, wet nose: Remember me? Outside, she runs, pulling me forward, her ears flapping in the breeze. My neighbor waves when we go past him, mowing his lawn in his bare feet. At the corner we pause to watch the kids playing their daily basketball game. Along the fence wild honeysuckle blooms.
Annette Opalczynski