Since I wrote. But, as happy as I am this Spring, my disorders intrude...
The lilacs are blooming, and the man I love is allergic. But Max and I stop for a sniff every morning, on our walk. It is warm, sometimes too warm, during the day, but sweet and soft and glowing in the evening. The new neighbors pull chairs out on our communal porch and spend the evening in soft, Spanish talk, and the scent of the new lilacs drifts toward the busy city street.
The unicorn meat eating cats hang out by the back door, longing for a screen door, at least. Or they hunch down and smell the breezes that make their way under the door. My skin feels free after a winter snuggled in by cotton cuddle duds and silk undershirts.
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