and i feel your fears

i'd forgotten the potential early morning sunlight splashed across hardwood in oblique angles holds.

it's the same kind of potential you can find wandering through neighbourhoods full of too-large houses, the evening sun glinting off of old leaded windows, reflecting so much more than the shades of rose and purple which deck the edges of the sky, fading to something darker in the east.

seven of us sat around in a circle, my idea of a snack slowly ridiculed but enjoyed, while we tossed out ideas about voltaire's candide and the genre it falls into. racine's account of phaedra is found to be lacking, but somehow surpassing the classical presentations all at once. and don quixote is simply too much to put down in words.

morcheeba plays in the background. and then the tea party. and then led zeppelin.

i watch as the sun slips across the floor, the potential of the morning shifting and changing as its path forces the reflection into a small sliver, trapping a few leaves from the philidendrun.

tomorrow i fly home for another funeral.

i don't know whether i should laugh or cry. however, i'm consoled mightily by the thought of flowers, my brothers and my sister, and a foul black fur beastie. and somewhere, in the midst of all of that, the echo of a woman who will forever stand as the meter against which i will measure kindness, an open heart, the true meaning of love and loving, and the quality of butter tarts.