Henry is not well. By the time you read these words, he will have had surgery and hopefully the surgery will help. In the meantime, the words I have had in my head for the last few days have come from Mary Oliver’s poem “In Blackwater Woods:”
“To live in this world/you must be able/to do three things:”
And the first of those three things is to love what is mortal.
The words of a friend’s ten-year old son helped, too.
He suggested that I write a story about Henry.
I feel my heart lift every time I consider this suggestion.
I think: yes, I will tell a story.
That way it will make sense.
That way it will come out right.
That way, I can bear it.

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