Walking Away — Ekphrastic Mama

My friend sends me this snippet on e-mail, a thin connection to our past lives from ten years ago when I lived in the village near the runaway where the small plane went off and a man walked away.

Later, this morning when I am out running-a carpe diem act done during a break in the frequent PNW rain-that runway unfurls itself in front of me, my steps paved by that snippet. A first kiss from my then future hub…