The Leaving and the Giving
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 ...