never fully-clothed or intentionally misinforming

It's a strange sensation - that of death crossing your path. I honestly don't think it can be summed up in singular words. I can't just call it chilling, because I'm boiling with rage. I'd never call it sad because the word has lost its meaning to wilted flowers and sappy, tragic love stories on the Oxygen network. I could call it catastrophic, but even that word is overused in this fucked up reality - what with genocides and humanitarian crises across the globe. There's just nothing that compares to being toe to toe with Death. There's nothing like it at all.  Maybe the closest I've come to figuring out a word for this sensation is unpredictable . I wake up each morning and I don't know. I just really haven't got even the most remote idea of what the day will look and feel like. Right now, for instance, I just got back from visit Dominic at Harmony. It's the end of the school year and today was Water Play Day. He was having so much f

On Facebook six years ago, I wrote that I made a list of things that make me happy with Susan. I'm deciding to do this every year. Granted, it'll probably not ever be a complete current list, but at least it's indicative of me carving out time to think about what I have to be grateful for and to acknowledge its existence in my life, whatever it  may be. Things That Make Me Happy: May 2019 Playing with Dominic Drinking coffee in the morning, alone Driving the Wrangler Listening to music Watching Dominic dance to Lean on Sheena (the Bouncing Souls cover version) Writing (to Susan, on the blog, to Dominic via email) Sitting outside Tending to Susan's garden Soaking up sunlight and vitamin D Walking outside in the neighborhood Spending time with Mom and Dad Planning trips Discovering and listening to new podcasts Reading about new and interesting things (recently: Chernobyl, Mount Everest) Practicing the guitar

I had a nap on the couch. I just woke up to a phone call from Patrick. And while I was laying here trying today decide if I should go back to sleep, I remembered my dream. Last year, Susan came to Dominic's year-end performance for Harmony Learning Center. During the nap, I dreamed that she came to the one this year. I was running late and when I got there, I first sat down in the back. And then I saw her a few rows up, with no one sitting on either side of her. I quietly moved up and sat down with her. We held hands as we watched Dominic do his last school performance with his classmates at Harmony.

In ink on my wrist you're permanently affixed. You and I, always.