By Maryanna Gabriel
I have been smoothing over words of the book I am writing. They jump out of place so, like dropped stitches of knitting. I pick up the stitches wondering how the words fell out of their rows. I am writing about my father and is it a coincidence? I am realizing it is his birthday? I have lit a candle and it feels very much like I am with him.
I have declared today a special day as the gloomy grey fog rolls in. I am not going to give in and have bought flowers, made bread, and now I am making cookies. Soon I will go for a walk. Oh, and I shan't look at the news either because I need my sleep at night. Take that oh, gloom and doom.
Love you, Dad.