The cranes hanging by the golf course continue to fade and fall back to earth. I saw these two the morning of Christmas Eve next to a frozen birdbath on the golf course.
Another winter at Flint without Dad.
But he is here: in the horse across the street that is oddly entranced by me one morning, in the little things at Flint that are constant reminders, in the odd double meteor blazing across the sky, in the flurry of brilliantly red cardinals we now have (including four sitting on the back of the swing Christmas morning), and in the snow or even just some little white snow flurries that seem to grace every Christmas Day!
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