I lined up all of my teacups along the window’s edge. I used to think they were so pretty. The curtain is drawn, so their colors are muted. I don’t have the energy to open it, to let the sunshine in. Why is it so wrong to sit in the dark and in the…

It’s Tuesday, or maybe a Sunday. I used to be able to tell the difference by the speed of the elk making their way through the stony valley below.  On Tuesdays, they are alert and purposeful. On Sundays, they meander — perhaps trying to postpone whatever Tuesday might bring. But these days, they are slow every day,…