My husband unwraps his birthday present. A low gasp escapes as he gazes upon the brass gong. hanging delicately from a hand-carved mahogany stand. Our apartment is small and the gong is enormous. It glints in the June sunlight.
“It is so beautiful,” he says. “How did you find it?” I shrug. He persists. “Where did you get the idea?” he continues, picking up the cloth-covered mallet. He softly touches mallet to brass and a low note reverberates as the gong sways, back and forth and I am reminded of a cold day in February. Continue reading →