He takes my hand. That farmer of mine. I ask him how he is. He says fine. See, he lives by the thought; If I live; Great. If I die; Better. He asks me how I am? I begin to weep. You see, because I don't want to lose him. Because I am tired. I am weary. I am tired of bad news. I know there is good in everything. I seek that which is good. But today. For the moment. I am not fine. I am sad. I am scared. I am numb. The CT scan showed some ... View Post