How could I ever forget my best friend, the man, who had changed my destiny simply by allowing me to write about him?
This would become a lifelong pattern, sitting in my comfort zone high above the world in some sort of self-imposed exile.
The seasons tell us, everything in organic life tells us, that there is no holding on; still, we try to do just that. Sometimes, though, we learn the kind of wisdom that celebrates the open hand.
But in spite of my great desire for intimacy, I've always been a loner. Perhaps when the longing for connection is as strong as it is in me, when the desire is for something so deep and true, one knows better than to try. One sees that this is not th...
