I have become an old man—despite it all.  My sisters have long since passed.  And sometimes the miracle seems like a curse.  How long must the “magic” last?  Will I ever enter the valley of the shadow again?  As long ago as it is, I remember those days.  Younger folk have learned, to their regret, that if they give me any excuse, I’ll retell the stories in excruciating detail.  Like that last Sunday before everything fell apart—or seemed to.

He didn’t say he was running from the law when he showed up.  But we knew. Even if I hadn’t owed him my life, we would have taken him in.  We had loved each other long before that. Continue reading →