Monday, June 28, 2010
A year ago today:
In recent months, I've sardonically taken to referring to my home as "The Mausoleum". (If I weren't sardonic, I'd be suicidal.) When I moved here in September 2007, TJ, Elvis (his beloved and goofy cat), Lulu, Xander, Henry (my beloved and goofy rabbits) and I were alive, quite obviously. By May 2010, 20 months later, I was the only still left. (I might be scared of tempting fate, but having lived through the past eight months and three weeks, you're going to have to come after me with Kryptonite before I flinch.)
The pets, despite being spectacularly healthy, were each quite old and he and I knew the inevitable was approaching. If I live another 50 years, however, I'm still going to wish he were here. Quite lucky to have so many gifts from him and his things he kept here. Luckiest of all, of course, to have boundless memories of the two of us.
Here's to taking on more and more deadlines and to completing the novel; the first I'm doing now and the second I'm honing in on. "Knock wood", as he would say. And "When, not if."