Gravity, In Memoriam (1988-2007)

My cousin Gravity climbed up Alex's loft-bed ladder in Boston whenever she wanted and nobody could stop her. She hunted fireflies, gophers, squirrels, ants, moths, bats, and chipmunks with Annie, her sister, in their backyard in New Haven, and chased all the blue jays out of Connecticut. She slept on top of Alex's guitar case in Kent, OH, and she learned how to walk the edges of a clawfoot bathtub. She rubbed her face on fat books on Alex's floor in Brooklyn. Her favorite: David Lifton's hardcover Best Evidence. She watched the window on Waverly Place, making sure no one broke in and moved her water dish to the wrong side of the kitchen. I'll miss her. May Gravity have happiness and the causes of happiness, and may she be free from suffering and the causes of suffering.