domingo, 13 de noviembre de 2011
I miss you, Jenny.
You died on a Saturday morning and I had you placed here under our tree.
And I had that house of your father's bulldozed to the ground. Momma
always said dyin' was a part of life. I sure wish it wasn't. Little
Forrest, he's doing just fine. About to start school again soon. I make
his breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. I make sure he combs his hair
and brushes his teeth every day. Teaching him how to play ping-pong.
He's really good. We fish a lot. And every night, we read a book. He's
so smart, Jenny. You'd be so proud of him. I am. He, uh, wrote a letter,
and he says I can't read it. I'm not supposed to, so I'll just leave it
here for you. Jenny, I don't know if Momma was right or if, if it's
Lieutenant Dan. I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all
just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe
it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time. I miss you, Jenny. If there's anything you need, I won't be far away.
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