Years ago Gretchen gave Patrick a small ring, red and silver, which he wore often. When he passed away she asked me to send it back to her, which I did.
A week or two ago I was surprised to see it in my mailbox. She sent it to me, hoping that I’d wear it.
This I am doing, even here at the race track where a year ago (minus two days) I received the news of his end. Like the other little things of his that I keep close, it provides comfort–a wee bit of comfort–for the sadness.
Patrick and Stephanie worked tirelessly for years to repair and reconstruct the stone walls of their place in Deia. It was done without concrete, by Mallorquin standards. He told me that each rock must touch its neighbors in five places. I came across this picture in the same place I found several old letters.
I found these pictures in a stack of old mail from the late 1970’s to the early 1980s. I’m not sure who the clarinet player is. I don’t know what happened to the painting. Patrick thought he’d given it to Gretchen, but she doesn’t have it.