I’m driving my wife, my daughter, and the boyfriend home from a trip to the big mall in Syracuse where we went to shop for a prom dress. We didn’t come home with one but two are being shipped to the house to compare because one of the ones my daughter liked wasn’t in Macy’s in her size. They have a pretty elaborate prom dress department, most of which would scare you.
Here’s an example. We first went looking at Macy’s in Cincinnati right near my mother-in-law’s when we were out there last week for my sister-in-law’s funeral. We were there for a few days.
I just can’t imagine a girl feeling magical in this.
It’s J’s birthday. He died at seventeen, he’d be twenty-four today. I’d like to hear from him in some way. I haven’t in a while. That would be cool. I’m not expecting anything like the year the smoke alarm got low enough on its battery to start beeping on the anniversary of his death - and of the multiple smoke alarms in the house, the one that beeped was the one in his bedroom. Some coincidences are pretty improbable and that’s far from the only one involving J’s death.
I’m driving home and I’m looking at the thermometer on the dash. It reads 26 degrees. I’m thinking it would be cool if it hit 24. Of course, that wouldn’t mean anything because if it hits 24 on its way to 23, there will be no significance to it hitting that number. Anyway, it goes to 25 and stays there. And stays there. And stays there. Oh well, maybe if anything’s going to happen I can’t anticipate it.
And then, at 7:55, it hits 24. For less than a minute. And then, of course, it changes
To 25. I’m driving south. It climbs. It gets to 28, drops to 27, then 28, which is where it is when I get home.
So, low temp of 24 while I watch it.
Happy Birthday, Kid. Miss you.