I can't get around it, I miss my kids. Hell, I miss the kid that lives in the same house. Not sure where he went, but hope to see him again someday. He's here. . . but he's not. Emotionally vacant, real shame but largely out of my control. God grand me the serenity. . .
I used to love to take my little kids trick or treating. In three days my son Max will turn 10 years old. "Big double digits", as my dad would say. Max won't talk to me on the phone. I don't know what to get for his birthday. I call every week but haven't talked to him for months. He is becoming a stranger to me. I thought about writing a story for him, with him as the central character.
It would be nice if Moira would send me a picture of the kids in their costumes. Why do I do this to myself? Stop it right now! Life is good, later this afternoon I'll hit a bucket of balls and take a hike. Tonight I'll work the Promenade and see if I can't perform some tricks, for some treats