Epistolary in General
- Nov. 26, 2019, 10:16 p.m.
- |
- Public
The worst part of my day is the going to bed part, which is antithetical from the rest of most of my days. This is an unpleasant part of the year, where the sun creeps around the horizon and the temperature rarely creeps above freezing. When the temperature does dare to slide over the freezing line, it starts raining until the temperature drops and things ice up.
I am keeping up with my schoolwork, but not really doing as much writing as I should be doing.
I suppose there is a bit of pre-hibernation instinct going on here.
IM from an old shipmate. We were crewed together in my first squadron. Now a retired navy Captain and a Captain for United. He is writing a book and asked if was okay if he mentioned me.
I told him “Fine by me, as long as you confess you always farted first in the cockpit fart wars!”
I keep an excel spreadsheet of the years. The whens and the wheres. The births and the deaths.
There are about thirty years where the details are sparse. I didn’t really start paying attention until way into my thirties.
I know where and when I was born. I know when all of my siblings were born. I know when my children were born. And I know when my relatives started dying.
It is such a strange thing to contemplate. Everything feels like it is fast forward. Yet another Thanksgiving. Making garlic mashed potatoes. Another drive past Audrey’s house to pick up Mireya for some turkey.
Mailing gift cards for Christmas.
Snow.
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