Monday, March 7, 2016

On My Mind Monday


While you were alive the past was a live unfinished thing.  Like a painting we weren't done with.  Like a garden we were still learning to tend.  Nothing was set in stone yet, and weren't we ourselves still changing?  We might redeem our past by redeeming ourselves.  I had in mind a sort of alchemy.  But then you died, and just like that, it was over.  What was done was done.  Now we could never fix it.  All I can do is chip away, see what comes off in my hand, look for a shape.

Abigail Thomas