Someday you too will have more memories than dreams.
Tomorrow will be the 10th anniversary of the death of my husband.
So much water has passed under that bridge, and over it.
Beside it, surrounding it, overwhelming it. Destroying it. The bridge can no longer be crossed. But the swirling gray depths are dark and seductive, and beckon to me. Occasionally, I dive into those turbulent waters, but cannot make it to the other side. So I turn back, exhausted. Defeated. Unable to see the shore where once were welcoming arms.
Today has been one of those occasional forays.
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