The Last Summer
Greg had just come back home to me last summer after a trip with his wife. They went to Malaysia and Thailand, then he flew home.
Everywhere Greg went, he video-chatted with me, letting me see the places he was seeing. He loved trees and nature. He loved beauty, wonder, and the stories hidden inside ordinary things.
This tree, in particular, held one of Gregā€™s famous stories. He knew all about it, its age, its history, its majestic size, and the kind of beauty that made you stop and pay attention. That was so much like him.
Greg noticed things. He paid attention to the world around him. He carried curiosity with him wherever he went, and when he shared what he knew, he made it all come alive.
I miss his voice. I miss his stories. I miss the way we laughed and carried on. I miss the way he shared the world with me, as if he could not wait for me to see what he was seeing.
More than anything, I miss him.
Iā€™ll see you in a minute.
Copyright Ā© Joy M. Mills 2026
MJM (TM)