The concept, not any personal action.  Writing this piece for George and this is about where I am so far…

Exhale.  She stands listening, waiting.  I stand remembering, preparing.

The compulsion to move is replaced by movement itself.  Outside shatters cool water.  Inside continues the fall.

Going is a gift.  Her absence presents opportunity. I do not think, I simply begin the motions already in place.

Distance becomes malleable. There is no need to take the final step. Arrival occured the moment I left the house.

Routines of dining and dress are slow, methodical.  I am not completing them, it is the other way around.

This point is not the highest.  Nor is it the most convenient to access.  This just happens to be exactly where I am this moment in time.

The house key turns in the lock, and then reverses itself.  Protection seems pointless.  There is no more in or out.

A confluence of beginnings and ends.  Getting in the car and getting back out again.  Front porch begetting bridge rail.

So far I fear this is a bit more literal than I had hoped.  But I suppose it is at least a place to start.