Yesterday’s phone call. “To help you recuperate, I’d like to bring lunch, what time is best for you?”
“Oh, Marsha, 12:30??”
And she brings tomatoes, creamy mozzarella, fresh basilico
plus olives and avacado; red raspberries to top
niblets of dark chocolate.
On time, Mary arrives from work and
we three in the shade of the ash tree enjoy a loving repast.
Marsha hands a card to me and she has written inside, words from Rumi.
“We are the night ocean, filled with glints of light.
We are the space between the fish and the moon, while we sit here together.”
I can feel my body healing.