Fragments|Sharon Warden How I wish to God or whoever lives up there, whose eye roams the earth (or so they say), that I had gathered up the fragments of our life together, put them in a sweet-smelling basket , not squished to an unfathomable pulp, but neatly laid in straightened piles. On days like this, endless days of lonely boredom, I would take them out one by one, flip them over and over, examine them from every angle, kiss each one, then lovingly lay them in the sweetgrass basket until I needed them again. Sleepless nights would not be tossed and turned till daybreak; I would be too engrossed in opening the basket, to search out lovely memory after lovely memory, reliving you and me until the need for sleep faded and the morning light slithered through the shades once more. I would proudly display the basket on the middle shelf in my entry way -- the one a caller sees as soon as they come through the door. Sharon Warden