I had a few minutes this week in-between working out at the YMCA and before rushing to music practice to eat my makeshift dinner of chicken and vegetable rice, wrapped in tinfoil, on the rock sculpture dedicated to my husband in the garden plaza off of Lake Drive close to the police department.
The artist who designed the memorial wanted it to be interactive, so he polished one of the boulders with a flat top to serve as a seat for anyone wishing to rest and reflect. I think this is the first time I have ever sat there by myself. Even though alone, I felt in good company. I read the inscription on the rock several times,