I have 408 words so far for my memoir about the trip to California. It feels good to finally be starting this project.
I’ve been listening to my new Garbage radio station on Pandora for a couple of weeks now, and the urge has built up to critical mass.
I can see him so clearly, wearing his black shirt with the pink G on it. I’ll get to that. I’ll get there. It was the most color I ever saw him wear.
But then, we only saw each other in a handful of outfits; that’s the nature of road tripping.
So many memories assaulting me, of him, of my mother-in-law.
So much grief; so much grieving.
So many more words to write.