Maria called and said flies were swarming around one of her windows. In my house, I am the veteran fly-swatter, I have a refined technique involving height, angle and timing, I usually get even the fastest flies. These flies were sluggish and stupid, drunk in the sunlight,  and I got them all quickly.

As I was leaving Maria’s studio, I noticed an altar, it had a bone, stones, candles all lit, and then I saw the tin of ashes. I knew right away they were Frieda’s ashes, Lenore’s are in the living room of the farmhouse. Maria said yes, this was an altar in memory of Frieda, there was incense burning as well.

My wife is a good witch, a mystic, a naturalist, perhaps a pagan. Her life and spirit are marked by the most beautiful rituals. Things appear and disappear all the time – stones, crystals, tiny figurines, bones, twigs, flowers. They appear at odd times and vanish at odd times, I live in a magical world.

The bone was a deer bone, Maria explained, as if it were the most natural thing to have a bone sitting next to your computer. Frieda liked to steal it and try to chew  it. Maria had Spanish music playing on her Ipod, she asked me if I wanted to dance, and so we danced for a bit, in her studio, after I killed the fliess and paid homage to Frieda, who still keeps Maria company in her studio. Spirit lives there.