The blinds are pulled high—the bright sun of a new year slants across the dust motes and cracked paint—and the experiences, memories, and meaning of what I’ve been and what I’ve done. This is what I have to work with.
As I was boarding the plane for Austin to start pharmacy school in the fall of 1965 at the University of Texas, I realized that from now on I'd only return home for school vacations.
In my alternate universe, Steve is alive, riding his bicycle alongside me at twilight, oaks spreading their canopies as if to protect us, keeping our connection intact.
