Of course I cried. You can negotiate
parallel lives in movies. It’s tougher
in real life, even to facilitate
my own. To reach out my hand and touch your
shoulder when you’re not there, yet truly sense
your texture. To take suggestions – to wait –
surrender to that silent voice. Pretense
or fact? I watch you standing on the lake’s
frozen surface reflecting evergreens.
Hear his dad say, “The light. Always the light.”
If you were here I’d ask, “What does that mean
to you?” I watch cloudy dusk turn to night.
Today you smiled at me and gently waved.
I folded my hands – silent Namaste.
Roger Armbrust
June 18, 2015
