...6.14.15...

 i replanted my great grandma compton's iris'.

these two are touching each other.

she is here with me and tilda.

my heart smiles.

 death is nothing at all. it does not count. i have only

slipped away into the next room. nothing has happened.

everything remains exactly as it was. i am i, and you are

you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is 

untouched, unchanged. whatever we were to each other,

that we are still. call me by the old familiar name. speak

of me in the easy way which you always used. put no

difference into your tome. wear no forced air of solemnity

or sorrow. laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes

that we enjoyed together. play, smile, think of me, pray

for me. let it be spoken without effort, without

the ghost of a shadow upon it. life means all that it ever

meant. it is the same as it ever was. there is absolute and

unbroken continuity. what is this death but a negligible

accident? why should i be out of mind because i am out

of sight? i am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere

very near, just around the corner.

all is well.

Hattie M. Compton.

all.

is.

well.

welcome to coffee hour.

welcome to this Sunday morning.

just BE.

robin.