Monday, October 28
Mark was still courting me. His love and commitment never wavered, even though mine seemed to go up and down like an EKG. The gifts that he brought me that spring were humble and so beautiful. The contrast between the harshness of our lives then and the tenderness of those small gestures was shocking. A little bundle of wildflowers, laid on my pillow in the afternoon. A small drawing of the hawk we'd watched flying low over the marshy field behind the house. After the plants were in the ground I went to bed with a fever, and he brought me a plate of wild strawberries ringed by flowers and leaves, and sat on the edge of my bed and chattered and joked while I ate them, and would not take any for himself."