Dear Sammy,
It’s been three months. The weather is turning cooler, the leaves are changing and I’m still missing you. Summer is all but a memory now, baseball season is now filled with talks of pennant races and magic numbers, Halloween costumes crowd shelves. Christmas merchandise can be seen in my Costco. Canadian geese are starting to migrate. Soon enough, the leaves will fall and winter will be here.
It’s going to be a long, cold winter.
Wednesday, I was off and I slept in until 13:58. I had brains enough to fix lunch when I crawled out of bed, then simply came back upstairs. As I ate, I swore that for a moment, I heard you, Sammy. I thought I heard your “Feed me, stupid!” meow. I thought I heard you twice.
You have no idea how badly that screwed me up for the rest of the day. There was quite a bit of crying. It’s become involuntary, like breathing and blinking.
I have to be honest here: I’m still depressed. On my days off, I have zero desire to do anything. I don’t want to leave the house and I don’t want to head downstairs and sit in front of Alexa-1. All I want to do is, well, nothing. I have no interest in much of anything right now. Maybe things might change but as for right now, I’m stuck. In more ways than one.
Yours,
Silverwynde
P.S. Your dad hasn’t had sardines in a while. I think he doesn’t have the taste for them right now, all things considered.
Iacon East 