Yesterday, my friend had brain surgery. It did not go well.
He's a designer. I have a couple of his things here at Farmette.
His was last Sunday.
We were lying on rugs beneath some trees, dozy and warm and gratuitously full of picnic goodness. The kangaroo grass stood tall around us. A breeze sifted between the stems.
"It's gorgeous in summer when the grasses are in flower," I said to no one in particular.
For a moment, sleepy silence.
Then, "It sounds beautiful," he murmured, dreamy as the breeze itself.
"I'd love to see that."
He didn't realise I was talking in the present tense. We were surrounded by those subtle flowers. That gorgeous time was now.