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May 18, 2013

I tried to concentrate. Oh, I tried, damnit, but could not help snatching glances at the heaving wisp of a being that had been until a couple of weeks ago, following a second round of chemo such an animated presence in the community.

On August 29th, 2011, when hurricane Irene turned the Deerfield into a raging brown torrent; L came down the hill, weak as she was, happy just to shoot the breeze amid the rapidly growing crowd of rubberneckers.

Her appearance was bewildering: why did she look so different?
Oh, that was a wig, perched atop seemingly singed eyebrows.