I still drive by the apartment where I lived with him. I don’t go there just to see it; I love to walk and drive in that historic, hilly neighborhood. When I pass it, I look at the building with curiosity, like a reincarnated person might upon sensing familiarity in a place from a past life.

Someone is growing flowers outside there now, pots and pots of thriving plants. Ten years ago I was a flower cut from the ground and slowly dying there.  [Read more…]