L'Arche* friends, I miss walking beside you through the world. I miss holding your hand, Cassandra**, and how your fingernails always dug into my skin. Holding on tight helped you to balance, so I'd leave them there until I had to -- ever so gently -- pry them away. We'd re-grip, but a few steps later, your nails would dig in again. I'd sigh, maybe, but mostly I wouldn't mind the crescent moons left behind. They were imprints of trust. You'd ask me to take you out ... for tea, for sweets, for a break from routine. Because life was ...
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