High tundra - rock, ice, sky

Here we go again and as always, wherever you are, Leslie, you’re with me – through the endless Texas plains, the edge of New Mexico and over Raton Pass, into the Colorado flatlands, the foothills of the Rockies, stopping in Fort Collins - the city of my dreams, past the Snowy Mountains, into Wyoming’s high desert, and finally the Wind River Mountains and all along the way, Hello Kitty sticker (surrogate Leslie) reminding me, “The speed limit is…” and “Don’t you want to…” and "uhh..." and of course, "Hello."

David and Leslie, near Hue

Last night we were lying in bed talking, cutting up, laughing and laughing about I don’t remember what – like so many other nights... and then sweet mornings. These are the days. It’s been more than two months since the hail storm that turned things upside down for us. Except you and I never got turned upside down – together and these really are the days.

Sweet afternoons.

When I think of you my heart is full, all the love, the joy, the respect, all the fulfillment, all the everything.

And, incredibly, besides all that: http://ckjournal.blogspot.com/2010/04/leslie-retires.html

From Hue 2011/2012: After a banana pancake breakfast (with honey and yogurt) and not forgetting a glass of very strong cafe sua and a few minutes later splitting an omelet/baguette sandwich, we took a riverboat cruise for 100,000VND (Leslie's bargaining acumen) to Thien Mu Pagoda, 45 minutes up the perfume river. This where the monk Thich Quang Duc lived before he went to Saigon in 1966 to immolate himself in protest against the VN government and the war. The pagoda and grounds were quietly beautiful –understated and mossy with just a few people around and a view from the grounds across the wide river, past the plains, to these mist-covered mountains where we fought and bled, where so many from every side fought and bled and died, aching for life – me for a beautiful dark-haired girl whose photo was so washed out from the water that only the shadow of her left eye was left and now, 45 years later, looking across the room from where I write she's sitting on the bed, the love of my life, beautiful, her hair white now and here we are in Hue and I look out through the glass-paned doors toward palm trees and mossy buildings - it's misting in Hue.

I’ve loved you a long time.