I
noticed a branch waving in the wind outside this morning, and it seemed,
somehow, to say something about my life. Indeed, there appears to be a lot of
waving and shaking and swishing in these senior years of mine. People wave a
hand my way, dogs wag their tails toward me, snowflakes in storms flutter as if
waving their best wishes, and just now another branch seemed to beckon to me in
the breeze. Sometimes people wave aside my words, Social Security forms usually
make sizable waves for me, and Delycia, as though she’s catching a cab,
sometimes has to wave me down to get my attention, which only makes my heart
flutter like a waving flag even more for love of her.
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