Most days I think easy come, easy go. Live for this moment, this one right this second as you’re reading my post, because people get sick and die or people don’t get sick and they still die. I think, it’s not personal. It’s not even about the person that died. It’s just what happens. So kiss longer and hug tighter and let yourself remember what it was like to play in the ocean when you were as little as my kid and roll on the grass and laugh until you can hardly catch your breath.
Other days, I think Ok ok, Dooda jokes over, ha ha, come home already. You’ve been on vacation for two whole years now! That’s too long! Come home. Mom will make you a big plate of spaghetti and garlic bread and I’ll sit next to you on the couch while you watch some game and tell me about some new player and what high school he went to, and I won’t care- have never cared about basketball; I’ll just happy to sit with you and listen to you and you’ll ask me how my friends are doing and then mom will bring us a cookie she made and it will be like that. Like how it was. Instead of how it is, you in a box on my mantel.