I wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always.

I sit quietly and think about my mom. It's funny how memory erodes, If all I had to work from were my childhood memories, my knowledge of my mother would be faded and soft, with a few sharp memories standing out.

Mama said, "Dreams are different to real life but important too."

I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way.

When we met I was wrecked, blasted, and damned, and I am slowly pulling myself together because I can see that you are a human being and I would like to be one, too.

She looks up at me, still rocking. “Henry . . . why did me decide to do this again?” “Supposedly when it’s over they hand you a baby and let you keep it.” “Oh yeah.” --Wednesday, September 5, 2001

He was not in the house. He did not come back that night. Days went by, and at last she understood that he would not return at all.