The Polish Girl

“Bright and warm this morning under the awning of the café in the little plaza, the one with the playground and palm trees. No lindens here, or willows, but coffee smells as heavenly in this old Mediterranean port as it does at home. My gray city. Its name Spaniards find impossible to pronounce.

“Summer still feeling close this afternoon. It was fun posing without my dress for the painter from America. October. The first rain of Autumn. It’s cold without my sweater.

The Polish Girl – Watercolor – 14 x 17 inches.

“It must be colder at home. I’ll be back in time for the first snow. November. Too soon.

“Tomorrow I’ll put on the long-sleeved blouse, the white one, and walk to the café again for coffee. The American? In the afternoon I’ll paint my toenails blue, blue like the sky above the sea.”

June 31st: A Story

This is a story about sunlight and clouds in a wide blue sky, a pond, a warm, green day in a summer many years ago, and the discovery of a lost friend. But it begins years before that with a day of rainstorms and tears, a sad day of leaving people you love and who love you.

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A River Without End

Heraclitus was wrong. Yes, you can step into the same river twice. What could be easier? You find a shallow spot, take off your boots and socks, roll up your pant legs and step into the water. You feel the chill and the smooth stones beneath your feet, turn around and wade back to shore. Then you do the same thing over again. If you are 19 or 20 years old, as I was at the time I discovered the old Greek’s error, you can smile smugly at your friend. “There, I did it twice,” I proclaimed.

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