The ninth Tuesday, We talk about How love goes on.

The leaves had began to change color, turning the ride through West Newton into a portrait of gold and rust.

pilgrimage

the whole country seemd to be obsessed

insert a catheter into his penis

his feet dangled 

into a palm of the colored pillow

on the windowsill

I sum it up in my newest aphorism

It bugs you because you look out for me.

He coughed, which turned into a long-drawn-out gargle, ending with another glob into a crushed tissue.

This time, I was in less of a hurry to finish.

a quilt of hopeful messages that friends had stitched for him on his seventieth birthday.

in love, intimate ways

love is how you stay alive

chuckled.

popped his lips

"A teacher to the last."

I came to love the way Morrie lit up when I entered the room.

in that foggy, high-pitched voice

He looked you straight in the eye, and he listened as if you were the only person in the world.

How much better would people get along if their first encounter 

 each day were like this --- instead of a grumble from a waitress or a bus driver or a boss.

I believe in being fully present.

I had scoffed back then,

their eyes glaze over if you speak for more than thirty seconds.

crinkle in delight

in a city morgue

when Morrie was a little

with a ruddy complexion

he was accosted by tow robbers.

he collapsed on the porch.

had scolded him and taught him to work

sucked all other functions out of them

Every birth must therefore engender a death

Were there no men dying, there would be no birds or fish being born.

When we take, we must replenish.