Tonight has been a night of telling tales, reliving old times, relating more recent ones, and just plain, old making shit up. Maybe not making shit up, but wondering if we were.
I feel a lot like this life is a really, awfully hard one, for everybody really, and there are stories and moments and memories and just things imagined that break my heart.
Tonight Jason is asleep like a baby, deeper and more sound than I've seen him in a long time, goosedown and a kitty named Elliott singing his lullaby.
I'm sleeping on a bayou tonight, and the air is thick with things untold and things waiting to happen.
Mama, I love you and I'm sorry that your life is so hard. I hope that the things I've done to make it harder haven't been too much to bear. I hope that the good things I've brought to you have been enough to make you happy that I'm here. I hope that you can get past all the things that have made you sad, all your gut-wrenching disappointments, to find joy in guitars, picks, footballs and xylophones.
Tonight I go to bed waiting for Biddy to tell me that everything is going to be okay. I know that it probably will be, but it's nice when a dead person takes the time to tell you.
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4 comments:
i wish someone would tell me too.
*big sigh*
mmmmmm.....
How can I tell you (or anyone) how wonderful and magical my life has been and is, due largely because of my delightful sweethearts, India and Buffy and Reed? Trust me, Buff, you have given me so much joy; the few times I had to whack you with a rolled up newspaper hardly seem to matter at all.
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