An internal debate is raging. Outside Christmas lights. No Outside Christmas lights. At the moment, the no’s are in the ascendancy. That could change with the weather.

For two years or maybe three I’ve stared at two spots, one on the wall in my bedroom and one in the bathroom, that needed retouching.

This might be strange. Bear with me. Imagine, if you will, the fabric of space and time, filling the universe in all directions. Then imagine a person moving through it. In the imagining, focus on the force of life that binds all the physical molecules of that person together, so that the image of the person is simply light.

The Ficus is in. Winter has officially started. Under the previous administration there would have been an accompanying array of plants to bring to shelter.

I’m untethered. For two years the poles of my universe alternated between home and a memory care facility down the road in Fredericksburg. I oriented my life to that town, shopping, medicine, everything.

I did a strange thing yesterday. I ported over the number from my wife’s old iPhone 5 to a new phone. It’s now the official number for Gatewood Press, which is fitting, I guess, since it’s the publisher of my new book about our experience with her dementia.

I closed a bank account the other day, actually a credit union account. Seems an inconsequential and rather ordinary thing to do.

It’s 38, raining, and there’s a hurricane in the Gulf. Seems pretty normal for October.

Went to bed thinking I had a subject for today’s essay. Woke up with no subject in mind. That’s a little disconcerting.

I’m starting to enjoy my two-stage nightly sleep. Go to bed. Dump all the day’s troubles.

Inconsequential factoid. I slept in the center of the king bed last night on what shall now be known as the hill between the valleys of the two bodies.

Did something unusual yesterday. Met a stranger. Sight unseen.

I miss the body of my youth when I could fall into sleep and lie there insensible until I woke, fully rested.

An observation. At one point, following the death of my wife, I felt as though I was entering the third act of a three-act play…

A while back, I bought a couple of motion detection cameras. The purpose was to monitor my wife’s activities when she went outside to ensure she stayed safe.

Yesterday I was ruminating about the Greek alphabet.

I have a friend who plays tennis. She’s not playing to become the next Martina Navratilova.

I think the Victorians were on to something with all their etiquette surrounding death.

The mini-memorial weekend for the departed mother went well. The children were all in place by Saturday afternoon, and the music started shortly thereafter.