There are times when terrible, cataclysmic things happen, and you grip the walls, demanding an answer on how the walls could look on and not intervene. When you want to run into the garden and grab the weeping willows and yank them all the way to the ground, hissing at them that they were already most of the way there, when they dare ask what that was for.
I've missed your words (and you, of course). Beautiful as always.