It's not that I haven't wanted to write; Lord knows I've tried many a time. It's just that I've spent the last little while staring at pictures of the summer and sighing a lot.
My cousins - cousins that live here, in Canada - are in Italy right now, being embraced by All of Them, Over There.
I'm not jealous, really; I'll go, probably sooner rather than later, and having something to look forward to is sometimes better than the something itself. But I also understand that having some of them over here this past summer has been good medicine for me, and for my family, and just makes me wish that sooner or later was now.
It was a lovely summer, you know? But it's already dark at eight, and twenty-nine degree days are now nineteen degree days. Tomorrow is the first of September and Tuesday is the first day of school, and Wednesday is 11 months since we lost Frankie, which feels both unreal and horrifyingly like yesterday.
Iíve no distractions. Itís the only thing in my head.
I know that mooning about, picking things up and putting things down never helped anybody, but honestly, I think that that's the only thing I feel like doing right now.
Just for a little while.
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