The horrible heat over the Fourth of July weekend finally broke, and by Monday morning, it was October.
The park was empty except for the wind and the mist.
I thought about my mother, who always professed to love daisies or ‘any flower in the shape of a daisy.’
I was glad that I had brought her to this park a few years ago, before her mind slipped away.
She would still love to see it now, I thought, passing the clumps of echinacea.
Even when your mind is confused, the colors of the park can be a salve.
You don’t need to understand much.
There is a light and a path, and you follow it.
