I don’t remember her last words to me. Or to anyone, I guess.
I recall fumbled phone calls and the really shitty timing for Blood to step across the street.
I recall the amazing kindness and … emotion of a bar down the street, and the feeling of being gutted the next day. and the next. ad nauseum.
I can look and see – I know / recall taking pictures of my face – what did I look like.
but, that’s me, Eleanor’s son.
I miss you ma.
Don’t think of you as often, but you’re always there, my stable base, my excellent foundation. Boy howdy do I get to ponder how I became who I am vs. the enormous number of folk who weren’t raised as well as I was. Of course you get the most of the credit.
I do have some question re: alt interpretations of who “Scott was” – sadly, not for this timeline, eh?
This timeline is now different.
there were moments in the past – a certain motorcycle ride by my then girl-friend Pam which, at least as I tell the story, had me calling you and apologizing profusely for what I must have put you through.
but nowadays, well, the fears and amazement and realization at what you managed to pull off. Just wow.
Boo holds the mantel of ‘mom’ at least in my current life – she’s doing a great job.
He’s a great kid.
I hope – oh how I hope – he becomes a man whom you’d be proud to be family too. strange feels, strange times, and anniversaries of momentous falling.
Thanks – once more and evermore – for all you gave to me ma. Certainly gives me a fighting chance most days.
tell your loved ones that you love them
hey – I love you. even if we’ve not spoken in too long.
:: s ::
| Respice ad diem hanc |
//12:13a+21Oct2019=Monday | random blather on the Tube of You … though as Modern Rogues they seem kinda cool/