We three, about our mothers, a chance conversation: the loss of memory, of awareness of the present, of the markers of their special belovedness, more and more with this one, time to time with that, sure to come with the other. They whom we love are steadily going on, turning the corner ahead, moving out of sight, leading the way, we following behind.
There is no glamour in this adventure; The drama in this next stage of love is muted. Oh, dear ones, let us do for you what we will wish for ourselves: the grace of hospitality, the dance of friendship, the freshness of exploration in each meeting, between meetings, beyond meetings, forever.
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