I was looking out at the garden where there will be vegetables eventually, where other things will sprout up unexpectedly and unidentifiably from the compost pile of juiced plant insides. I was thinking about my neighbor who disappeared five days ago and  Brown Eyed Girl was oozing out from somewhere in the yard, making me feel like dancing, like everything is fertile and returning and that when someone dies, when someone leaves, you feel it. There’s the loss, of course, the sadness, but there’s something else, too – a little surge of energy, as if the smallest piece of tapestry has broken off, a tiny piece of you, of me, of all of us, that now is free.


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