Morning walk, playing at the park.
Another year almost here
October 7th will be two years. Two years that she has been gone. I can't say I 'had' a daughter. That seems like such blasphemy. The correct term to me is 'HAVE' a daughter. But she is no longer huggable. I can no longer hear her laughter or her voice. I can't look forward to any more of her accomplishments because there are none. Autumn again, and it's the same smell in the air. The same quirky wind and dampening light. The time of year I have always loved. Now it's also the time of year that I remember the knock on my door. The face that uttered words telling me she was gone. Autumn décor goes up, as does a sense of dread. Macabre song of leaves in the trees. This year also has included the end of my marriage. Though truthfully it ended long ago, it took a long time to realize that there was no light to sustain it. Just angry words and poison. Seeds from the harvest, in fruit that is past its time, Sink into the earth. From the decay comes life they
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