My Little Golden Book of Phobias

Today is surgery day. Armed with ipod, living will, durable power of attorney, slippers and the NYT book review, we head off to the hospital. O, and a list of phone numbers for me to call after the Dr walks down the hall toward me removing his paper hat. He'll be wearing A) a smile B) a grim expression C)a noncommittal straight mouth. That's why Bev will be with me so we can hold hands. Like in the movies.

Except that this is actually happening.

The day is wavery and cold. Fallen leaves. Empty soccer fields. Pearl gray sky. Seattle at her most atmospheric.

May all beings be held with love today.