There are too many things I want to do." She started to convulse again, tears streaming from her deep blue eyes like the heavy rain now falling."Skipp..., Skippy, Skippy," he whispered, sitting beside her, and putting his arm around her again."Donald, let's do something," she suggest, stifling her sniffling. "To take our mind off the hurricane. That big wave will hit soon. You said so." Yes, I suppose it will. What would you like to do? Play pinochle?" My wife likes to play pinochle, he. Tearing another piece of tape, I stared at her picture. “You are going to be my motivation,” I said to it, as though I would actually see her again. I knew I wouldn't, but even then, after all that had happened, I couldn't let go. . . I dropped my right shoulder, and the backpack dangling from it slid with a muffled thump onto the couch. I burned and ached all over. A twinge of pain burst in my back, eliciting a grimace and a passing glance from my wife. She disappeared into the kitchen,. More

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