Read Chapter 15 here with Cupcake
I hate this day. Maybe even more than yesterday. Wine hangovers are the worst. At least it’s Saturday. It’s one of those do-nothing kind of days but I have ignored my admin for far too long. The due date for the book is getting closer.
I can hear my Mother in the back of my head screaming “exercise!” She emailed me adds for weight loss pills again. According to her if you aren’t a perfect 10 you’re a heart attack waiting to happen.
Fine mom. I’m going.
I pack my laptop and take the long road to walk to the park. Its dandelion season and they are everywhere. I pick one up and take a photo. I blow it to the wind and watch the seeds dance in the breeze as they float away. A grand concept don’t you think? You get picked, blown in a random direction and there you put your roots and bloom. Happily. If only humans worked like that. Wait no. I don’t want to be touched and blown by random passersby. Ew.
I reach the park and it’s quite for a Saturday. Fine by me. I climb the platform for the first time. Seeing I am all alone in the park. Not a bad spot to just sit and read …or write. HAH who m I kidding.
I fling open the laptop and start downloading mails. I have good connection here. The sun is ever so slightly peeking past the leaves and branches of the thick over growth above and warming my back. It’s kind of comforting, winter sunlight. I loosen my hair by taking the paintbrush out. If you can’t let your hair down on Saturdays when can you. I lay it next to my laptop bag. The leather one Michael brought me from India. It is my favourite and I shall use it until it falls apart and he brings me a new one.
Winter wrote back. Shit she knows something’s up. Fuck it. Might as well talk to her about it. Save some money on therapy.
Here goes nothing.
Email: To Winter
Subject: Oops, Wine.
Wine should come with warning labels “Do not operate electronics while intoxicated”
FIRSTLY – Happy birthday. May this be your year to bloom no matter where life blows you.
Yesterday was the anniversary of the death of my little brother and a dear family friend’s son. We were very close and the day hurts more each year. Not less like romance novels would have you believe. I could have prevented this tragedy from happening all those years ago. No matter how many times I have been told it’s not my fault. It pretty much boils down to me being the shittest big sister alive. My little brother and his best friend were the family favourites. My parents had my sister and I left. He was an only child. Actually He was deaf like you. I can’t remember how he lost his hearing but it was also due to an illness.
I miss them.
You remind me of Antonio. My brother’s friend. He was a special soul. Now that you have a little back ground on my cat and my duck, lets write (and draw) a fucking best seller shall we?
Hope to hear from you soon.
Shit. I am half way home when I realise I left the paintbrush up on the platform.