Clinging to memories like pitons. What am I trying to recall? Most of us don't embrace death which is why we are forever shocked by its intrustion. Death happens to other people. I sometimes wonder what its like to work among the dead, in graveyards, and in funeral parolors. I wonder if they feel closer to the dead, or more aware of the distance between the living and the dead? My mom and dad are in a graveyard. I rarely visit them. I do visit Roxanne at the waters edge, and every time I walk in my garden and water her tree. Both a place of comfort. Last night I dreamt the kids were little, we were swimming at a pool. Smiles were everywhere, those are the days memories are made of.