21 years ago, this week I moved back to Connecticut from a year and a half in Brandon, Florida.
Every year as summer ends, I think about that time. And I'm always glad I came back. Until it snows of course. I hate the fucking snow. But anyway...
And as the summer ends I also find my mind moving towards my brother who died just as summer was ending in 1993. Next month it'll be 30 years since he died.
How did 30 years pass so quick?
Which means it's 23 years since my mom died. Almost on the anniversary of my brother's death.
How did this time pass?
Every day is what you make of it. The good ol' days are every yesterday.
Not just memories from decades past.
I'm glad it's been weird too.