I came out of the woods to learn that my friend Michael had passed in his sleep.
“Oh, wow….” I called out behind a computer screen from the comfort of my couch.
Sawyer was by the window. “You see it too!” I looked up with what must have been a confused expression. Sawyer pointed to the tree outside the window. Someone had hung a quilt heart in the low branches.
He brought it to me, beaming. One side colorful, the other black.
As a writer I deal in symbol and metaphor, my currency, but in my waking life I believe it’s just us… each of us making our moments and our memories with each other as meaningful or meaningless as our hearts and fears and hopes will allow.
I miss connections and chances to connect all the time, likely because I fall into the trap that there will always be more time.
Goodbye, Michael. You connected so many people to the open road, the freedom and abandon of two wheels under the power of desire.
