Sometimes I look back on my childhood Summers visiting my mother’s extended family in Blasdell, New York near Buffalo and realize that so much of what was there is gone. Primarily some of the people, but also some of the buildings, parks, homes that I used to visit. When I dwell on it, it can become overwhelmingly saddening. But I know that grief is the Yin to Love’s Yang ☯️ and I’m glad for the beautiful memories. Sometimes in my mind’s eye I’m on the old multicolor, mostly Brown upholstered couch, petting Spike the dog, the faint smell of cigarette smoke, hanging in the air from Gram in the kitchen crocheting, moats of dust dancing in a sunbeam coming through the front window as my grandfather plays Gershwin on the piano, the clock striking out Westminster chimes.

Part of me will always be there.