Upside Down Kris

The Zone of Lasts I'   ve entered the zone of lasts...the last time I will soak in the red hue of downtown, feel the wind whipping as I race down the main drag on my bike, savor the scent of dry flowers as I walk past my favorite shop admiring the tree of lights glowing all year on the inside... Last Wednesday I sang for the last time at the farmer's market. Afterward, I made a conscious effort to truly enjoy the hearty meat sauce of my gramigna while admiring the string of lights highlighting its steam. The air was just a bit biting, announcing that fall had already turned the bend. While I had been singing, the jazz singer Cristina Zavalloni passed by on her way to the cinema. I halted in the middle of my performance to hug her. Was it our last hug? She sat and listened to me for a while, and then we gave our last wave. A little while later, someone stopped to mouth the words of a song I was singing. It took me a minute to realize he was a guitarist I had sung with years ago.

The Leaving and the Giving I am leaving parts of myself all over as I pack up to go.  The first piece of me that comes to mind is the echo of my voice in the plaza, particularly in that magic moment when the lights suddenly stroke the square at  evening time.  I hope their orange halos make my voice glow, too–at least in remembrance. When I'm gone, my sincere wish is that someone says, "Where is that singer of those lovely old tunes? What a joy she was to hear!"   There is also the note I wrote anonymously to our neighbors, thanking them for their lovely garden which tingled me every time I passed it during lockdown. My letter fell through the fence and I wasn't sure if they would ever notice it. How tickled I was one day to see an envelope entitled "Dear neighbour" attached to their fence in response! Of course, there are the things I gave: the keyboard that I hope will inspire my companion's niece to flit across the keys, or the glow-in-the-dark cubes