For Thelma

The door doesn't shut quite as well. You died on a thursday, the day followed beautifully. You've seen the vibrant colors before so it's ok to stay indoors. Oregon knows you well and so do the tributaries are now aligned. The lake by your home sits quiet, the fountain is not working, once it remembers your ice-skates scissoring on it, it will be fixed again. You explained death to me very well since it means to be alive. Here. Now. Inside me it is always summer for you. Outside it is cold and I am out of wit.

Thelma 1908-2005