She loved it when I used the berries. She sees them now and her body is tantalized with the memories she can never again relive.
I can tell how much she misses me from the stares she takes at a bowl of mixed fruit filled with cherries, pineapples, slices of bananas, straw-, blue-, black-, goose-, rasp- and her favorite; huckleberries.
Those were her favorite because they were available in the local market near our log cabin in central Washington State, on the outskirts of Chester Morse Lake, where we would escape to share our birthday week that stretched from the end of August to the beginning of September.
The berries are now no longer useful as they were when I once lived albeit they will forever symbolize the passion of our deepest intimacies.