I don’t know… the weight of it, I guess. At some point, it becomes bearable. It turns into something that you can crawl out from under and carry around like a brick in your pocket. And you even forget it, for a while. But then you reach in for whatever reason and there it is. Oh right, that. Which could be awful. Not all the time. It’s kinda… not that you’d like it exactly, but it’s what you’ve got instead of your son. So, you carry it around. And it doesn’t go away. Which is… fine, actually.
Rabbit Hole, Nat