4 am and a bad cold leaves me wanting a shot of whiskey and a cigarette. neither would help except maybe the whiskey. lying there i kept thinking about old ghosts. one in particuluar who was very fat and very loud and today i saw his face and read his musings and that is why i want a drink and a smoke. there's the man you want your honor, the one with the fake hair and broken hottub.
there are gifts in every disaster. he was a hurricane of strong cologne, poker chips, cocktails and lies. but in the middle of that were all of us, and one day we all stood up together and walked out.
mary was the hero in all of that, and still my hero. so pretty and brave with rose petal skin, mary mary. mary lost her mom shortly after i did, on christmas eve a year ago. her father followed soon after. mary mary. we sat in a sunny chapel and listened to chopin's etude and sang dean martin and oh, canada! and through all of that mary cried and found strength and kept moving.
we lose people. some we loved and will always miss, and some sneak out of town in the middle of the night leaving us scratching our heads.
and some we think about in the middle of the night, and wonder.
1 comment:
Oh Linda. That made me laugh, then cry, then laugh again. And yes, we stood up together, and you gave me your strength that day and in the days that followed. And then again in the chapel. You singing Memories are made of this is a memory I will cherish forever. xoxo
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