Hello everyone, everywhere,

This week has been fascinating. Why? I really can’t tell you why. I’ve been bumping into people, and I’m kind of surprised about how many people I do know here. Seventeen years. Who’d have figured?

The weather’s funny here. One day it’s nice, the next day it’s snowing. I have very bad arthritis in my hands–mostly my left hand–and I’m left-handed. So I couldn’t write over the weekend because my arm was killing me and I couldn’t close my hand. I got the idea in my head for this story, but because of my brain injury, I couldn’t keep it straight. So I kind of used my right hand and made these tick notes which I can’t read now. Michelle’s the only one who can actually read my writing, so when I write something in a hurry, sometimes I have to bring it to her to decipher.  I can’t believe I remembered enough of this piece to write it. I’ll like it better when Michelle’s finished with it. Then I’ll understand it. We all will.

That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest.


Old couple walking

Strolling…a passionate walk. Those two…anyone would call them old. I mean, they’re wrinkled, and forgetful too. Who will watch after them after I am gone?

Sixty-three years, holding strong. Who is watching who? I need a plan. Where to put them when I can no longer understand them?

And on they stroll.

I and the others want only the best for them…but a little gratitude…just say thanks. That can’t be much. They’re so much in their own world that we don’t even know what to call them now.

As the sun turns from yellow to crimson, arm in arm they walk, maybe talking, maybe not. Embers burn where memories lie. Always yesterday, and soon tomorrow. They just called it love.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson

2 comments on “A FLURRY OF MONDAYS

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