A mind of mists. As I watch, you strive to work your way through, struggling with misguided judgment and, at times, enraptured by youth long gone. I feel your mind fall away on the phone as I am speaking. And having left before you’ve gone, you are here and not. You taught me that we do the best we can, knowing what we know in that moment. There is an old red door lying out on the lawn offering the sky admittance. And a mind, towns away, trying so – not to be empty.