Daybreak dog jog with my kids, the quadripeds. My frayed wool gloves match the crystalline sky. After yesterday’s 20-raindrop “storm,” the desert smells like cat piss.
On the trail where Max first found a granite stone etched with the letters “F-E-T” he spies another beneath a half-dead creosote bush.
On this stone, “L-I-F-E-T-I.” And so, we graduate from Wordle to Scrabble.
Maybe a series, thinks the writer in me. And a smile, for the love of words—that torch passed down by family writers who came before—does not end with me. I’ve unleashed the legacy.
Love it! In just 100 words we are transported else where - another world! Thanks. Hoping to see you all later if our storm in the UK does not tear down the wires!