"Letter left unsent to this morning's advice column"
dear _______,
in the event of my impending unraveling, there is nothing left for me to give you. all I have are the words I have written over all these years. I have not left a single feeling, phrase or moment untouched. (as a matter of fact, remember the time we ran off in my Winnebago and ate BBQ all summer?) in these last moments I have left, I think of all the nice things that were left unsaid. I'm sure if you check, Hallmark's already got the perfect card for what we both must be thinking now. the moon was out last night, and it was beautiful. silent, silvery light glowing in perfect defiance against the subtle sky, not a raindrop or cloud in sight. I think a few birds were about, chattering and wooing. all the while, the lone sound of a million wings flapping. you were wrong about me, you know. I didn't turn out to be a bitter old coot like James or Thomas or even Hank. but what you did get right was the fact that I'm gonna miss you. and that's saying somethin' there 'cuz you know I don't miss nobody. if you ever are standing outside at night on the porch your father built, in the old house where our children grew up, reach out with your hands. I still might be blowing a kiss your way. maybe, if I'm lucky, you'll be there to catch it. enough of this horseshit, I'm off to the bar to get drunk and scratch my ass all night.
your blubbering, loving idiot bastard,
Robert
(Note: This was originally written June 2, 2004 for my old blog.)
Copyright: 2004, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
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