My view for the last few days.
I don't want to grow up. Don't want to leave bed. Stay suspended between the fond memories of last year and the scary shadows lurking on the coming year. In fact I've been staying in bed as much as possible the last few days. Some reading. Some web browsing. Mostly falling back to sleep often. Short sleeps make for interesting dreams. I need to journal them. Which reminds me: one of Andy's gifts to me was a beautiful journal. Which I intend to keep by my bed to note down said interesting dreams. What I love about this gift: he acknowledges that I am a writer. Encourages it.
He is a much sweeter man than his father.
I need to get out of the pajamas now. They are getting a bit ripe.
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