On The Verge

Tears
threaten to spill
out of my eyes

at the strangest moments

I don't know what
brings it on.

Sometimes it makes sense.
A flash of
a memory.
A hint of
a future
not lived.

Sometimes it does not.
A breath of
air.
A moment of
quiet.

Then again…
it never makes sense.
None of this makes
any
sense.

Maybe I will
wake up
and find out this was all
a bad dream…
but I know I won't.

And so I square up my shoulders,
wipe my tears,
grateful for the hand
of a friend
on my shoulder...

Until the next time
I find myself
on the verge
of tears.

I spent less than 24 hours at camp yesterday and today…breathing in the rarefied air of camp in the winter…together with friends and colleagues, some of whom I was seeing for the first time since Sam's death. To be in that space where he learned to roll over, to crawl, to pull himself up…was breathtaking and heart-filling and also so very hard and sad...

Summer 2006

Summer 2007

Summer 2009 (notice the PJs)

This past summer...