RJ--if there are--is the only

Bill stopped Sophie at the door and asked her to wait for a moment. He had something to show her. She looked at him a moment, smiled, and waited until the last of the students filed out.

"My poor dear wife, Liz, she's still here too. She passed away nearly six years ago. Heart attack. Pretty little thing. So nice and quiet. But I put this up for her. And she is still out there. So I can see her anytime. Anytime. She'll be right there." Bill mumbled, looking at the keyboard and not at Sophie as he typed in a URL.

The screen slowly coalesced into a lilac ribbon floating quietly on an invisible wave. Forest green text read:

In loving memory of Elizabeth Ellen Harding -- June 6 1925 to September 21, 1992.

Below this were pictures of a smiling couple, and Bill began to point: "This was our wedding. Here's us at Niagara Falls, on our honeymoon. 1950 that was. Here she is smelling primroses up on Pikes Peak. This is when we went to Mount Rushmore one year. That's her with our only daughter, Jessica, in the hospital. And that's her with Jessica when she graduated college. And that's her with the grandbabies--all three of them." Bill clicked on a link at the bottom of the screen. "Here's what people said about her at the funeral. Telling you, I didn't know the half of what that woman did. But here it is. She is still right here."

Sophie laid her hand on his. "Are you sure this is a safe place to store those memories?" Her voice was softer than she had ever known it to be.

Bill turned his neck and stared at her for a long while. "No place safer" he said at last. "This is the only way the world can keep remembering my Liz."

joining the / river's flow / is the only / way to / welcome in / anything beyond / our skin

if there are / other waters / we can not / know them / all we see / in rivers / is their presence