Our morning walks

               I've grown accustomed to our early morning walks. When the dew spraying off the morning buds was equivalent to the exchanging of our bodily fluids. It was the late Spring I am referring to now. The Pre-Summer grass promised laughter among the nettles,.... and the mediocre body of water (lake) that wrapped around your furry plantation. The early Autumn would bring the death of many swamp-flies and distant mad cackles,.. from your crazy neighbors estate. Yes our early morning walks. I recall a conversation that took place one morning. I just met your eyes coming over the scattered landscape. We discussed how people were more what they wear than what they eat. I that day wore a white undershirt tucked into my beige khakis,. covered by a navy blue windbreaker. You a tighly knit pink summer dress with a grey shawl wrapped around your shoulders. Then in the mid-to late Autumn our morning walks came to an abrupt dark and narrow ending,. majorly due to your death.
               My favorite mornings during that brief period were the ones when I woke up and saw the Red cardinal out of my bedroom window nesting on Old man Mckinleys tree. That meant you didn't have cancer and you weren't dying. My memories of you still ring true with many past seasons piled in the remote corner of your fathers dusty shed. I recall how petite and slick you were,. as if the universe was built around you and I was lucky enough to be a part of it.