The Move

Everyone arrives today–The Butcher, my parents–to help The Butcher and his family move to Arizona. I feel like a skipping stone out across the water, hoping that, if I just concentrate on the far shore, I’ll make it, trying not to think about sinking.

We lived together, on and off, until I was forty, forty-one? Thirty-two years, if I’m counting correctly.

You just get used to having a person around after that long. To not needing plans or topics of conversation.

I’m going to miss them so much.

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