I feel warmth and nostalgia for the afternoons.   I especially like them in spring and summer.  It is the time of day you were done working.    I savored those afternoons you would come bounding up the stairs from your office. You where excited to be with us and fully present.  There was always an excitement for us all.  It is hard, though it seems like it shouldn't be, to describe.  We were consistently happy at this time of day.  You would hug on the kids and they would explode with energy - running outside, climbing on the play set, jumping on the trampoline.  We would make love many of those afternoons and after we would join the kids, usually in the hot tub.    A softness would fall upon all of us and we would breathe in the mountain view.   

I loved those afternoons with you.  

The Godzilla movie count down calendar that you made with John last year still rest upon our walls.  The countdown started in March and little then did we know it was a countdown to your departure.  I look at that calendar with all the X's on the numbers and melt in those memories of the last afternoons we had together.


It was the time of day we had least resistance with each other.   We both craved that deep connection with one another. The excitement we all felt was the moment which was ripe with possibilities and we all eagerly wanted it.  We leaned hard into it.  Our love making the most sensual.  Our children in pure joy.   I started the disconnect with the part I played with the heart I refused to open.   It was a choice Lucretia.  

There was a great deal of love shared in those afternoons and that was a choice too.  


The afternoons always felt more about us.  Our time and the children seemed a cooperative component.    I enjoyed the way you kissed me, your taste.    Interesting, in my mind, the memories are hazed and set to soft music.   We listened to music a lot together.   All kinds.   I especially enjoyed the massages after making love.   You were so good at massage.    I remember the last one you gave me on Friday before you died.  You finished work, the kids played outside, we made love and then you massaged me.  The massage had the common activities of the children climbing under the table and between my legs as I am on the massage table and you are working out the tension in my arms.    I adored us all together and  listening to the children play.  It relaxed me.  It always has and still does today.   Their play soothes me. 


And do you remember the following Friday?   It was the first Friday after I died.   You were sitting on the couch, looking out at the Front Range... feeling numb,not sure of your next step.

You said out loud, "I want to go back to last Friday.  Your massage. All of us being together."  

I responded and the fact that you could hear my response so clearly caught you by surprise.   Do you remember what I said? 

I said, "Why?  I am so happy now!"