Yes, I am reading Proust right now. But that isn't what I'm writing about.
It is only about three and a half years since I wrote a post called This Week. Now Zachary Tea is gone.
It wasn't enough time. But it was time spent the way he wanted.
Colin has written this about how it happened. There is not much I want to add.
Zach, we hope your last three and a half years erased the miserable beginning of your life: a year abandoned in the Napa fires, scarring your lungs as you scrounged along your solitary way, and then a year in a shelter, both physically and mentally uncomfortable, but never, it seems, afraid of anything.
From the moment you met us, you were entirely ours and we belonged to you. You were immediately delighted, and then, very soon, completely in charge. I never got over my own initial surprise and enchantment, but my body got used to your delicious presence nestled into it, every day, asserting your rights and chirping your happiness. I miss you sorely.