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 ...
There are approximately 865 more words in this article.
To read the rest of this article, please buy this issue, or join the Resurgence Trust. As a member you will receive access to the complete archive of magazines from May 1966.
If you are already a member, please Sign in