seven

Sunday came and went. Another September 26th. Seven years since J went home. Seven years since we learned how much changes in an instant. Seven years missing him.

Another anniversary of the day. Yes, says my rational mind, but another day does not make him any more gone from you.

That's not the point, I reply.

What is, then? Oh rational mind, you can be annoying when you persist.

I don't know.

But I always dread the day coming when it's "one more year since". I get introspective, retrospective. I miss my nephew, my friend, the silliness and brilliance and imperfections that made him, him.

ever and anon.