Dearest Gentle Reader;

Tomorrow is the passing of my first adopted son's bd. He'd be 38 now I think, we'll, he is 38 now I think. Not that I get to speak to him, or write him, or see him... See, about a decade ago he got tangled in drugs, had a spat with his girlfriend, and launched off the deep end of sanity. Ever seen a swan dive, that was my son, bed sheet wrapped around his girlfriend's throat, bound so tightly she couldn't breathe.

He was convicted of two counts of manslaughter, once for her, and once for his unborn child.

So when I tell you that I'm not afraid of you, know I've seen the ugly side of people. My parents and my brother used to fight, with raised voices and occasionally open hands across the jaw. I shy away from loud voices, because I heary past. But my papa raised a strong willed daughter, and though raised voices make me uncomfortable, I'm not afraid to stand up and stand my ground.

What does all of this have to do, you're not doubt wondering, and truthfully I don't know. I miss my son, and I miss you.

There was a time when my son was growing to be closer than my son, we dated for a short time, but after several dates we decided our friendship was better as close friends than as intimate partners (largely because I wasn't ready for the level of intimacy he wanted). We remained friends until about 4-5 years ago when I got a letter from him basically telling me to carry on without him because all he could discuss was four walls, and an exercise yard, while I had a world to experience.

I never wrote him again.

But I missed him at least three times a year. His birthday, Faire season, and any time something made me think of him (which is more often than you might think).

You, on the other hand dear reader, are recovering from a surgery that will hopefully make your life more tolerable. You smile gently my direction when I cross the hospital room threshold, like you can rest for a moment and drop your guard.

I wish I could spend more time making you feel that comfortable, honestly, I wish I could spin away the whole day just watching you flip endlessly through your videos. Gods it makes me want to crawl into the bed with you, stretch out beside you, and feel you breathing next to me.

I'm growing a tad impatient for 'One Day', Imzadi.