Printemps

Winter navel-gazing has led me to wonder if, at the tender age of 60, my best days are behind me. Have I used up all the good times allotted to me leaving only diminishing returns of mildly-amusing events until the day I cark it? My mood has spread to everyone else in the house, in osmosisy-patches, like whiffs of burning hope. Rich’s stomach hurts. Dan hasn’t picked up his guitar since October. Nim mopes. But this Tuesday we started adoption proceedings for a new pup to take up Siko’s Mantle of Happiness. That was the day the sun came out.

Photo of Nim by Laurie Leclair, styling by Roy. Inspired by Claws Out at the Corpse.