They regularly pass the cemetery
where her parents’ remains remain.

“Want to stop?” he asks rhetorically
knowing the answer is no. It has

been years since her late husband
died and his remains remain in a

little, country, church cemetery
hundreds of miles away and she

has no desire to drive there to
walk among the stones along that

country road. His parents remains
remain buried in a cemetery along

a railroad track in a suburb of a
big city miles and miles away. He

sometimes passes on the highway.
“Would you like to take a hike and

jog a bit in the dunes along the
shore?” he asks rhetorically know-

ing the answer is yes. They jog and
hike and come to the place overlook-

ing the water where Chocolate Labs
had trotted and pranced and danced

and once in awhile jumped with burn-
ing paws on the hot, summer sand

before dashing for the surf. And
every time he asks the answer is yes.