As if on cue, I accomplish two things. One, I eagerly tell her, “I’ll have your water waiting. Meet me on the enclosed patio. I’ll be there reading and marking essays.” And two, I spin on my heels, feel my heart leap out of my chest, and somewhat bounce toward the Tudor and the rest of our afternoon. Together.
* * * *
Alice. Poor Alice. She’s been living with me for the last month. Getting by. Just as she has done for the last year. Always getting by. Fall. Winter. Spring. Now summer. I’ve seen her take baby steps during this process of recovery. Eating better. Drinking less. She smokes some pot to relax, but only when I do. She does yoga now and then, and takes long walks around the neighborhood. She’s painting some. Small canvases. Dandelions being the main theme, of course. Light hues
