up with mister. he is i guess only eleven still. i have a bad sense of time. i wanted him to not be hobbled so young. still 11 is old for goldens. sarah said stephen dixon just died at 83, asked if that's young. not to me, i can't imagine being that old, honestly. i'll never make that, it seems i'm old at 60. we still have life, today. shit, i never planned the future anyway. i got a fireproof box from mom and tony and just noticed it has granny and gramps last wills and death certificates and drivers licenses. what am i supposed to do with that. i took it out and laid it on the counter for a few years and put my old bone poems inside.
i bet they'd still burn in there. can you imagine being reduced to bone fragments and ash. yeah, i really can, i've held the box with rose still hot from the oven on my lap. i've held my portion of dad in a ziplock and a dixie cup. i've seen them become one with the wind.