I find myself reading Mary E. F.'s poem over & over again, replaying the scene when Mrs McCluskey stands at the baseball pitch reading that poem for Ida before Lynette sprinkles her ashes on the pitch.
It makes me feel sad over & over again. I dont want to die. Worse, I never knew that learning to drive could cause mild depression.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment