It was a mid-October Tuesday when I learned that we exist merely as trinkets and gene fragments. Nothing more.My husband, Peter, and I shared high-time dreams during our journey to Tucson’s Cancer Center for his second round of chemotherapy. He talked of his soon-to-be-completed novel, his passion for fishing, the tip of Long Island. Peter wanted to show Lyda, our year-and-a-half old daughter, fishermen in their Boston Whalers hauling in bay scallops and halibut with the morning tide. He wanted to show her where he grew up. I spoke of upcoming holidays, roast turkey, pumpkin pie, dolls wrapped in colorful paper, a noble fir adorned with shiny glass balls. For more, click download button above!


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