You, dancing in the rain, naked as the day you were born, with that glorious hair flinging out in all directions, dusted with diamond drops. You, lyin... on the rug in front of the fire, the flickering flames bronzing your skin and making your brown eyes burn amber. Even now, flames make me think of your eyes, the volcano of passion that hides behind their mildness. I remember trying to hold on to the memories, the days, the moments slipping through my mind like grains of sand in a timer, a life. Uncle George was sitting on the front porch when I stopped the car in front of the house. I was disappointed by his presence. If Id had my way, the man would still be out in the barn or off to hell or Timbuktu. Putting my displeasure aside, I walked up to him and enthusiastically said, Hi Uncle George, old fella! Hey, guess what? Were all having a picnic lunch out in the woods. Im making lemonade and Aunt Peggy is going to pack up some the leftover fried chicken and fixings from last nights. More

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