Like the mist upon our breath

 Death,
It’s the absence, it’s the presence, it’s the witness that you had to your life.
It’ the life you witnessed as well.
I was thirty seven when we got Echo.  She was about the size and weight of a bottle of water.  From the beginning, she had to have it her way or she would make life miserable.  She was very determined. 
And then at the end,  she wasn’t there anymore.  I foolishly thought I was going to be okay with it, in that we had about a month to prepare, and I had actually planned to take her to the vet weeks ago.
You are never prepared.  I thought I knew that but I didn’t.  Or, I did but it doesn’t matter.

Come what may

The branch at which  I am working today smells like my sister  Beth’s house.  I know that  smell links us to many memories,  but, this is not so much a memory, as I was only recently there, it’s more of  a transcendence.  I also realize that  if you think about it too much and try to capture it, it's lost.  I have to know it only in its  vagueness, in the  moments when I’m not actually thinking about it, that’s when I can catch it and sit with the familiar and the missed presence that goes along with the woodsy earthy essence, that Is so particular and specific, that I’m shocked it would exist anywhere but there.

I'm not that good at breathing in

I don’t have thick skin, or, maybe I do, and I can say that’s the reason I’m so droopy around the neck in my middle age.
But figuratively, and by that I mean literally, because when things are said to me, my response is very physical, I don’t manage mean, cruel, nasty, hateful, or mindless behavior from others very well.
The times, besides for the relentless bullying in middle and elementary school, that people, usually strangers, have said awful things to me, or behaved in non-humane ways, are well kept files in my archives.  I visit them when sad, or overwhelmed.  I try and urge myself to not let them get away with it, or say the words that are equally crass, right back to them, because I rarely am at a loss for words.  But, I don’t.  I use my expression, my eyes, and I hold my tongue so that I don’t escalate the situation because ultimately, they are flawed, and I can feel so much better then them by letting them bare it all.  Or wait, no I can’t.   I always end up feeling horrible and stricken.
So, why?  Why do I let it happen. Because, even though I know I’m not deserving of mistreatment, I also know that I’m not going to make them a better person by instructing them, or challenging their base behavior.  I’m only going to have an argument, one that I will win, as I have in the past, and or at least slay them where they stand.  But, no, on that larger scale, I’m not going to make any changes in the person.  Without that, it’s not worth the effort, because my only goal would be to teach something, and I’ve learned, no one likes to be taught, especially, a lesson.