More shape than selfMay 10, 2015
On a rainy day before I saw you for the first time, the fog on Mt. Tam turned trees to silhouettes, sucked details into its gaping, white mouth. I stopped to look across the mountainside at one lone tree that has seen many storms. Still, it grows.
I thought of that tree as I watched your pixelated silhouette for the first time. You were curled, more shape than self, growing.
There’s the heartbeat, said the doctor, and I laughed, delighted by the only detail I needed.