"I stopped, looked at him in disbelief; then realized it was his career, too. "Arthur," I said, "I never touched the little bitch. What's the second t...ing?" Second," he said, "stop pacing around with that FUCKING CA..."He had stopped, dead in his sentence. "Cane," he finished softly.I stopped.He stared at my leg. He reached out and grabbed the cane. "Walk toward me," he commanded.I complied."Old war wound?" he asked, looking me in the eyes."Football," I replied, and told him the story.A smile. A friend of mine took me out to the field to pull weeds at the commune where he lived. It was a delightful Spring day. Butterflies danced overhead, the wild grass leaned with the breeze. I was soaking up the sun, which beat down on my exposed back like the warmth of a lover's breath.My friend and I talked and laughed about life, celebrating the abundance we are blessed to have in our community: a richness of friends, opportunities to make dreams come true, and nourishing homegrown food. We. More

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