Some days it seems so stupid to be writing to you here. You can't read this, you are gone. I can't seem to let you go in my mind. You absence is awful, it feels like you've been gone so long already. I was sitting at Ann's the other evening with her cat and the wind picked up and I could hear her wind chimes and that made me cry.
Walking Oliver the other afternoon, I heard movement in the bushes on the side of the road and there was a pair of cedar waxwings peaking out, they were eating berries. Of course my first thought was to tell you about them.
So many little things to tell you and you can't hear me. I try to stay busy but that only helps temporarily. I know you've been in my dreams again but I can't seem to remember any of them clearly.
I always forget that the hostas have flowers, I thought what cute fairy hats they would make, with skirts to match.
I wish I could find those books about fairies I loved as a kid, the ones with all the little things in nature that the fairies used for furnishings...
