Anniversaries

So many anniversaries today. Sixty years ago today the Enola Gay dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima. One year ago today, young Simon died (see "Perspective," "Goodnight Sweet Prince," and "I Have Learned What It Means to Wear Yellow"). I have been sitting and looking at the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the huge English walnut trees in the front yard and thinking about Simon. I've also been thinking about illness and death and those who I love so much. Some are going through Hell. We need to learn to go through Hell and still laugh, I guess.

This sunny day is for you, Simon. I hope Japan is also sun-drenched today. Finally, this light is for you, Bean. Thank you for the many luminous days you gave to me. Wow - it has been four "official" years and we had an entire decade together (more even - three "legally sanctioned" and seven, shall we say, "creatively endorsed" and four or so years before that during which I was privileged to know you. This year...who knows where to put that one - I could come up with some suggestions but they would, no doubt, be unthinkably ribald). See? I'm learning to still laugh even if I cannot have eleven or perpetuity. Happy Anniversary.