My dad and I made it down to the market this afternoon after going to Stone Mountain. I needed cigarettes, I need to quit. We crossed the spot where you carved our initials into the wet cement. I saw dad look at it. He saw me look at it too. It doesn’t hurt as much now when I see it. It hasn’t for some time. There have been times when I have walked down there that I don’t even think to look at it. I always think about you not being here when I am walking up the hill back home though. I think about the times striking out for the market for frozen pizza, cigarettes, soda, etc. I liked doing that. Still do, but it was better when I was coming back to you.
While at the market I suddenly had a craving for Orangina. I could not explain it really. I never really crave the stuff even though it is tasty. I bought a big bottle and am now sitting on the porch writing, after remembering that you told me, right after moving in here, that I could bring you Orangina any time I went to the market. I did for awhile. Remember? I would have brought home a truckload today, and pulled it up the hill with my hands, if I it could’ve caused you to be waiting on the sofa for me when I got back. I get on with my life, but I can’t say that the fantasy of us having another shot has really dissipated all that much.
Have fun in Sparkle this week. I might even phone you out of the blue so be on your toes.
love you