By Maryanna Gabriel
In between monsoons, floods, atmospheric rivers, and record cold temperatures, the man I married long ago, died. He was in so much pain. I thought I was prepared. Not that it was a shock. Not. More a quake. A deep seismic plunge that rolled throughout tectonic plates of memory, an eruption that rocked me lose. Cells unlocked and rearranged themselves. Am better today. The ground seems steadier and I think I have located edges where I stop and start.
