Sunday drive
We passed white wooden churches, red brick schools, stores with names familiar only to the locals, and movie theaters offering a single choice. We saw cats stationed at living room windows, horses switching tails against clouds of gnats, cows in pastures grouped together like gossips. These scenes seemed imbued with a beauty richer than normal; they were perfect as to have been staged. I felt as though I were driving through a museum full of pastoral bas-reliefs, and I took in the details that way, with wonder and appreciation. That was the tolerable part of my new vulnerability, the positive side of feeling my heart had migrated out of my bodyto hang on my chest like a necklace.