June 18, 2006

It is a too hot day and I cannot rest. Something about the heat has set my mind spinning, back to other summers and the people who inhabited them and who echo inside me yet on this June afternoon. How can a heart ache so, for time long, long gone?
My small son sleeps on the front porch, the ceiling fan pulling warm breeze over him. I can just see him there through the window that separates these two rooms. His young mind clear and uncluttered, his young heart yet unbroken.