I was thinkin’ about death and all. And about seein’ how you’re gonna die. I mean, on one hand, if dyin’ was all you thought about, it could kinda screw you up. But it could kinda help you, couldn’t it? Because you’d you know that everything else you can survive.
I come here and imagine that this is the spot where everything I’ve lost since my childhood has washed out. I tell myself, if that were true, and I waited long enough, then a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field, and gradually get larger until I’d see it was Tommy. He’d wave and maybe call. I don’t let the fantasy go beyond that. I can’t let it. I remind myself I was lucky to have had any time with him at all.