and suddenly this morning, I thought of her; br not in the Christmas way - br thinking of you at this time, br we must meet, sometime in the New Year… br br but with the sense of loss br and the sense of gratitude br so strongly present together br that there’s no point br in balancing the two; they live in br two different worlds; br br remembering how I would phone you br who had time for everybody br and never looked at the clock or watch br as we talked about ourself until time itself were weary.. br (then came the pointed, quiet alignment...) br br knowing what a treat it was going to be br but I’d have to be on my mettle.. br and when welcomed, and the tea made, br br it was as if you rejoined a conversation br about things that really matter br which you and she – well, OK, she – br had been talking about, br gently, seriously, all her life; and yet as if br she had never formulated a thought about it before, br until you brought it up; br br and together, you and she br would hear the sound of wisdom br as if it were newborn that day, in that tidy room. br br Loss; and gratitude. br A single lady of advancing years, br serious eyes, with a sparkle waiting there, br a smile ready at the corners of her mouth br as if it waited on the prompt of love br in some high golden play. br I’m told she had more annual Valentine cards br than anyone would have known.