In the early-morning quiet, I do the good work of remembering. I look back over the last day or two, recalling, reliving. . . .

At the end of the reunion weekend. . . .

 The harder I try to control my future or somebody else or my health. . . .

 If the person beside you is teeming with seas of life. . . .

When hard things happen and I am tempted to lose heart. . . .

His crying woke me just before dawn. . . .