Piki's Flowers

My grandmother, Piki, passed away on Friday, June 12, 2009.

Just looking at that sentence makes my eyes water. On my dining room table sit flowers from her funeral. I know that it is time to throw them out, but I cannot steel myself to the task. To toss them away, these now-ugly, decaying blossoms, seems too casual. I would throw out others - normal, everyday flowers. I would save a bouquet from a wedding. But what do I do with these? They are neither normal nor particularly beautiful nor did Piki choose them herself.

Yet.
When I see them, I think of her, and I do not want to stop thinking of Piki.

Box Avoidance

Facing the second night in our new country home, I should be unpacking, sorting, arranging or something else productive, but I don't want to.
My husband just walked by the window, gun slung over his shoulder. Not everyone approves of guns, and I am just glad that there are fewer neighbors here to protest his personal war on starlings.
Just like the starlings, I am an alien here. I feel as though I still belong in our little 407 house on South Street.
But the big yard is nice, and the kids like the pond.