It’s two years ago Sunday I got the call. All Soul’s Day. They call it All Saint’s Day now, like they call confession reconciliation now. Not sure how much use I have for any of it anymore, but I like the old names better. I like pretty much everything better the way it used to be.
Brian was dead. That was the gist of it. Rollover accident in the wee small hours of Halloween night. He always did have a sense of style.
It’s not light yet today, but I can hear a steady rain drumming down. It’s stripping what leaves are left off the trees and leaving them plastered to the lawns and walks in a slippery, multi-colored death poultice. A lot of people like the fall – like the colors, the smells, football. But anything dead will turn colors if you give it time. Anything dead has a stink. Dig up a body someday if you’re wondering. Football’s OK, I guess. I still like football.
He was my best friend – the one I had going all the way back to grade school. The one you can’t make anymore, not when you’re 50, no matter who you meet or how much you click. I could go on and tell you how great he was, but it wouldn’t make any sense to you, and it’s none of your business anyway. None of this is.
Bare ruined choirs. Bare ruined choirs.
I like everything better the way it used to be.