HOW WE MISSED you at the market this morning. The space where your table belongs was just a gap today. Everything else was in order: under the canopy to the left, the two soft-spoken women selling grass-fed beef; under the canopy to the right, the couple from Strasburg, their yellow dog sleeping beneath the bus-stop tree while they peddled their flowers, pumpkins and gourds. But your spot between them was empty – painfully so, like a tooth newly missing from a friend’s smile.
“Tate?” my boy kept saying. “Tate?” Who can blame him for being distressed? Yours was one of the essential faces of ...
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