saluti per tutti!

There were birthday parties at Christmas (his and Ron's), good food and wine (always wine), dogs, cats, mingling of families in San Francisco and Taos, art (lots of that), books, change, disagreements,  a bit of modest travel, literary/art events, new restaurants, quiet dinners. We mourn the passing of our long time friend Charlie who breathed his last breath today. I am glad I got to see him yesterday, spend a few moments alone with him and say goodbye. His spirit had already moved on (I sensed that) but his body was not ready until today. I don't think I'm crazy, I have seen it before. In any case, it's what I experienced -- my perception. I remember the chocolate cakes I baked, the socks we designed and I knitted for an ahtist and how he loved them so much he hung them up in his studio and didn't want to wear them out by wearing them! Silly.

But other artists have had the same reaction to hand knitted socks (they were all men). I wonder if they're still in his studio somewhere. Or did he finally wear them until they fell apart. I forgot to ask.

I pour a glass or two of what Coppola Winery calls "wine for everyday life" (read: inexpensive) but good, and worthy of a toast to the departed. Ron can't toast with me yet, but there's been a bit of an improvement today and I think we can cut back on the pain killers at last. Saw a picture of another old dear friend tonight and now I'm all haunted and reveling in memories and recalling the past. This has been coming for a few days and I've been resisting. Because the way is being gradually cleared, I'm getting used to it, actually. I can weather this. I can. And another dear friend will be coming to stay with us at summer's end, followed by our 18 year old granddaughter Megan. Are things beginning to look up? I'm not waiting anymore, there's motion beneath my feet in spite of my implacability. And rain earlier today. Lovely, wet, steady rain. Clearing the way for blue.

The great Tao has no expectations for me,
no demands, no battles or wars to fight,
and no history to live up to.
      (Wayne Dyer translation of the Tao)