DEAR SALLIE

In Memoriam: Sallie D., 1943-2003

Dear Sallie,

First time I've been to your house since you left us three years ago. Thought you'd like to know the frogs are still here, and the pond looks the same. And the old swing on the front porch hasn't changed. But lots of things are different inside. It was just too hard to keep it the way it was when you were here.

Your prized possession--your guitar--still stands in the corner of the yellow bedroom. At first I couldn't look at it. It still had way too much of your music trapped inside, that we'd never hear again. Finally I touched it, read the words, the stickers you'd pasted on the old case. Rubbed my hand over the dark wood. If there's anyplace that still holds traces of you, any place your soul might visit now and then, Sallie, it's surely here. In this little upstairs room, with that West-by-God-Virginia mountain breeze blowing in the windows. If I listen really, really hard, I might hear music drifting in, over the deep bass of frogs every now and then.

Hope you don't mind I took a picture of the old guitar and posted it on my blog. I asked Tom and he said it'd be fine. And knowing you, I'm sure it would be.

Wherever you are, cousin, I know you're dancin' to a whole lot of different drummers. Thanks for teaching us how to love wide and strong and big enough to cover the whole world, just like you did, Sallie.

Miss you...