skeeter
November 08, 2005

half-sleep fading into mid afternoon. waking up, but never completely. stuck in that purgatory insomniacs never escape. the place where you're never really asleep and you're never really awake.
a phone call, jolting, "they lost the baby." silence. what do you say to that? my mind swimming with worry, about my brother. about the way he holds these kind of pains as tight as he can. he nicknamed the baby skeeter, until they knew if it was a boy or girl. he was so, so happy. two girls, he was hoping for a boy.

a fuzzy autumn day when all you can do is drive and listen to those songs that remind you of everything. the smell of burning leaves.

in the grocery store, a man with a wry grin and wiry hair. "Smile," he said. and I did.