The Hebron house, where we lived for three years before we moved to Portland, was not the right place for us. We were on a corner with three stop signs, and the car noise was incessant in the warmer seasons. But there are a few things I miss about it.

One is a small bleeding heart that grew on the bank behind the house. For some reason, I can't remember whether we planted it there, or it was there when we moved in, but its old-fashioned pendant flowers were a delight to watch in the spring.


Another thing I miss is my little herb garden. I think I'll try to plant a similar garden here. We brought some of the plants when we moved, but unfortunately they were over the septic tank, which had to be dug up for repairs last autumn. The company that did the work tried to move and save them, so we'll see what comes up.


I also miss my cairn. I built it right after I went on Social Security Disability. Though I was fatigued from my cancer and chemo and ready to rest when I retired, I guess I had to prove to myself that I was still alive. I wanted to create something that would be there when I was gone.

Now it's in others' hands. Perhaps I'll build another here.

One thing that I'll miss a great deal is something I can't show you a picture of. But you can try to picture it yourself: the full moon rising over my bedroom window, John trying to shut out the light because it disturbed his sleep, but I, delighting in it, taking off my nightgown and letting it fall on my poor, diseased breast and bones.

I have said thank you to the moon, and tonight I'd like to say it again. Moon, you who bring the tides in the seas and the bodies of women, thank you, again and again.

In love,
May