Notebooks 064

Funny how things work out. My dad's first night out in months. The bed with no habitant isn't yet dismantled, ready for my sister stopping over. The first day I'm wearing the t-shirt she bought me for christmas.

She's dead. My grandma. Dead.

Dad's guilt ridden after a night out 'knowing' he shouldn't have got drunk. He held my hand "When I die..." in both of his "this is a bond. This." I held him when he came inside. He splintered into tears and draped himself upon my shoulders. He drowned my collarbone and I stroked the back of his exploding chest. My dad. The man I can't even remember hugging before in my life.

I can't remember the last time I saw her, but really I can. I think I hid when she came to walk the dog. Hid. Look at me now.