The Sunday Whirl

The singe of a summer sunset glimmered in the heat index of high nineties, as I began searching for a particular scarf needed when the air cools. Another hint of my advancing age felt as I straightened up too quickly beside the bureau and scraped my knee on the drawer. The demons of age visit often now.

Years ago I decided to reside near the sea where I could wade in the cerulean shallows with my also aged companion, Jeeves, my Irish wolfhound. The salt water trickles around our feet, and we see the bonfire is already glowing. All the mothers and grandmothers were arriving to celebrate Mother’s Day.


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