Coffee with Laura

Yesterday morning, you gave me the news of Laura’s passing while I was walking. I got home and made my coffee with a pot that Laura had given me. It was a surprise. One day I came home and there was a package, inside was a glass pyrex pot. I made a pot and took pictures of it. Drank my coffee.

Later in the day, as I was recording inside I heated the bottom of the remaining coffee. Forgot it on the stove and continued recording. Susan came home to the kitchen filled with smoke and the pot red hot. I took the put outside and placed it on a piece of medal. It CRACKED. It broke.

Just a small note of happenings.

At Last, Forever
by Ian Anderson

So why are you holding my hand tonight?
I’m not intending to go far away.
I’m just slipping through to the back room
I’ll leave you messages almost every day.

And who was I to last forever?
I didn’t promise to stay the pace.
Not in this lifetime, babe
But we’ll cling together:
Some kind of heaven written in your face.

So why are you holding my hand tonight?
Well, am I feeling so cold to the touch?
Do my eyes seem to focus
On some distant point?

Why do I find it hard to talk too much?
And who was I to last forever?
I didn’t promise to stay the pace.
Not in this lifetime, babe
But we’ll cling together:
Some kind of heaven written in your face.

So why are you holding my hand tonight?
I’m not intending to go far away.
I’m just slipping through to the back room
I’ll leave you messages almost every day.

And who was I to last forever?
I didn’t promise to stay the pace.
Not in this lifetime, babe
But we’ll cling together:
Some kind of heaven written in your face.