My friend J confessed that the worst part of rehab is the forced cheerfulness of the staff.
He and I agree: gossipy-southerny-chatty-condescendingly-cute women can make us want to eat nails or walk on glass or escape by any means necessary.
These are large personalities without whom we can do.
Unfortunately, he must endure them, for now.
II
Driving to his home in Bell Buckle, his wife F and I, in our separate vehicles, encountered a fat orange moon rising over the village, like a beacon of hope and healing.
I wish he could have stood with me in his tree house, looking out at the distance.
This is a big personality in whose company we could both happily thrive.
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