These days and particularly on these uncharacteristically sunny Vancouver days I feel this empty thing in my stomach. I feel uneasy.
Both my Rosemary and I are more or less in good health. There is money in the bank and we live in a nice neighbourhood. Our deck garden is about to explode in the blooms of our roses. Food is good and simple to make. Breakfast in bed, every day with our Vancouver Sun and the New York Times in our hands is satisfying. And more so with the presence of our brother and sister cats, Niño and Niña.
This unease runs concurrently with thoughts into my past with all those people that are now gone.