The hot, moist smell of babies fresh from naps.

The hot, moist smell of babies fresh from naps.

From beginning to end this is a wet and blood smeared voyage, this begetting and birthing and moving away.

Discover that we are capable of solitary joy and having experienced it, know that we have touched the core of self.

Grief is like the wind. When it's blowing hard, you adjust your sails and run before it. If it blows too hard, you stay in the harbor, close the hatches and don't take calls. When it's gentle, you go sailing, have a picnic, take a swim.

Siblings may be ambivalent about their relationships in life, but in death the power of their bond strangles the surviving heart. Death reminds us that we are part of the same river, the same flow from the same source, rushing towards the same destiny. Were you close? Yes, but we didn't know it then.

A red brick Presbyterian church... captured by kudzu vines as surely as a butterfly in a net.