"Vacuous," he says.
And I don't say because I typically just grin at those words which as soon as I hear them I know they will linger.
"Why would you escape what you love?"
"Why does it matter?"
"I just don't understand."
"You don't have to."
It's four o'clock in the afternoon and there is something about driving down this particular road. I know what brought her here and I know somehow she saw this just as I am seeing it now. It was a place that needed love and how many years has it been. Now it's official. Open for business.
"I do believe thou protest too much."
"I'm not protesting anything."
"Don't you want me to understand?"
"Will it be okay with you if I don't care?"
Her hello is a laugh and there was this time when we sat in front of this fireplace and Walter was a baby with a cast on his leg. I wanted to be a writer and a photographer and I wanted to understand how I could feed myself with a camera and a computer. She was almost a decade ahead of me and continues to serves as inspiration.
"Try not to hold back."
"I do care about you but I don't necessarily care if you understand how I think about things. One of the things I love about you is the way you think. Does thinking differently ruin everything?"
The coffee pot has a note on it. Push the button, it reads.
Today I am grateful for a vacation.