sidewalks (2) luna moth

2 minute read

pieces of treasure

LAST WEEK’S POST, sidewalks (1), was the first in what I’m hoping will be a series of short posts (if I can stick to my plan). You don’t have to read sidewalks (1), or look for my upcoming sidewalk posts (each Wednesday), but . . . I really hope you do.

I’ll be sharing with you brief chapter excerpts from my book, and memories, and photos of things I find (or have found) while out walking.

. . . pieces of treasure, interesting things, and the messages I need—the proof?— to know we, he and I, are still and always will be connected.

here’s a link to read sidewalks (1)

finding

IT WAS APRIL 30, 2011, on the four-year anniversary of Sam’s death when . . .

. . . while out walking up by the lake, I found another luna moth, already dead, lying in the grass next to the sidewalk. The color of the moth’s wings reminded me of Sam’s eyes, pale green. I scooped up the papery corpse, cupped my hands around it, and carried it home. This one I keep in a baseball display cube near my desk as a reminder: The world is impermanent.

Excerpt from Willower: Rewriting Life After Unimaginable Loss: Chapter 9: Migrating

continuing

MAY 29, 2018, eleven years after Sam’s death . . .

I’m looking over at the papery luna moth in the plastic baseball display cube on the windowsill beside my desk, the one I’d found years ago, already dead, lying in the grass next to the sidewalk. It was the color of Sam’s eyes, pale green, with flecks of brownish orange, but over the years, the sun has bleached it to an almost white with light sepia eyes.

I turn back to my computer screen and continue typing.

Excerpt from Willower: Rewriting Life After Unimaginable Loss: Chapter 10: Seeing

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