Etta

     I had a dream about my wife the other night. There was a gentle breeze, the scent of Gardenias and she was there. She was not dressed in a flowing white gown. She wore a red and black jersey knit shirt and black slacks. It was the outfit she wore the night she died. She smiled and said, “Old man, it’s time to come home.”  . I did not argue with her. She was right. Two days later I died in my sleep. I was surprised Etta came for me. I’d suffered through the deaths of our oldest son, … Continue reading Etta