These days, I seem to be alone in my head and in my house—new work keeps pouring forth—and Cora meets me for coffee at Starbuck’s every Thursday. Amazing to find a friend and a sister after so many years.
I’ve started getting out there just a little bit, going to a local artists’ group and at least talking to a couple of the women there. It feels safe.
Most evenings, I sit on the front porch and watch the sky. Sometimes I read or just sip a glass of wine. I watch the small lizards that abound here along the river—Leapin’ Louisiana Lizards, as Gran used to say—little fellows who puff up their orange throats to attract the lady lizards. They’re good company, and I talk to them occasionally just to be sociable. But they never talk back—and not one of them is named Bill.
THE END
