The writing group that met so regularly
Groups of friends aging, the big 40, then the 50s, then the 60s, aging now, aches & pains, and into the 70s. And onward.
Thinking so little time is left. When half of life is spent anticipating death.
Tulips as madeleines
Also songs, and smells.
And sunlight. Walking down a street.
Fresh cut grass taking you to the HP picnic, the lot with the tiny old cemetery.
And the man who remembers the ice cream truck.
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