Snow glowing in a sun slice concerning the large rises on Fifth Avenue introduced to mind our magnificent Blizzard of the Century in '93, a day I cradle as the earliest day I constructed have a passion for. Not that I was a virgin at 37. But I was single…and single-breasted.
Tender sufficient from the surgical treatment and chemotherapy to struggle with dragging a bundle of logs house to my fireplace from the Union Square industry in the accumulating slush, I felt like a wounded bird, frail and fragile in a metropolis complete of the urgent and driven. They had no way of discovering I was intent on putting together the best nest for mating. Scones in the oven, a claw-foot tub complete of fragrant h2o, and Annie Lennox on the stereo….
Dying is uncomplicated it really is dwelling that scares me to loss of life ….
Writer: Mary R. Katzke
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