Submission 33

Dear Vicky,

It’s been a while. I still run. My “daddys hands” have found children to hold. I’ve grown a beard again. And I think of you still.

Madrid. Paris. New York. St Ann’s Hospital. Seven years. Shared memories, good and bad. 

None of this was your fault.  I am proud of you. Always will be. I guess we were all helpless. I promised you that I would be ok and I am more than ok. Pablo Neruda said it best :

“If you no longer live, 

if you, beloved, my love, 

if you have died, 

all the leaves will fall in my breast, 

it will rain on my soul night and day, 

the snow will burn my heart, 

I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow, 

my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but 

I shall stay alive, 

because above all things 

you wanted me indomitable, 

and, my love, because you know that I am not only a man 

but all mankind”

KC 27.5.22.