gently as the currents of air

...and the little low bench where we all sat as children is there before the fire...waiting for Katrine, who always sat down on it at once, stretching out her long legs, whenever she came to stay. Katrine has died since I came here, so she is one of the presences who come and go at this strange intersection where I do not live in time, but where past and future flow together into the present as gently as the currents of air that sometimes make the curtains stir as if a hand just touched them.

From Plant Dreaming Deep, May Sarton