My hands reach up toward your shoulders, the detail of your back quickly memorized and cataloged by my palms. I pause. To be able to remember this mom...nt later, I need to know where your hands are as well as what you feel like during my own exploration. As I was lost in my head, your fingers were dancing across my jaw burning an ancient pattern of longing where they trailed. I feel your hand rest under my ear, in my hair, the large, flat surface of your palm against the side of my cheek while. Patty loved the valley but she wished they had never come here. Maybe Dad would still be alive. Patty had loved her father. They had been very close. The loss had been made all the worse by the way it had affected her mother. Instead of Patty and her mother drawing closer together they had drifted apart. Mom had taken it hard. For the first couple of months after the accident she had hardly spoken. She seemed to be existing in a state of perpetual shock. And then Patty had noticed the empty. More

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