Thursday, February 24, 2011

The bruises are already fading

...but I still can't talk properly. I told my mom what was going on yesterday and started crying on the phone...I'm going up to Flagstaff on friday, and I'll probably be staying there for a few days.

Here are the scans, though:

Nothing unexpected, I suppose. Not sure why I bother posting them at all. My mom says that the first two are from when I was about seven, the last from when I was eight. They were in boxes with some of my school stuff. She sent me a little note with the pictures, this is what it says:

(after some general how-are-you stuff) Knowing you, you'll want to know the whole story behind all of these pictures. I can't promise I remember it right, but I think Mr. Moon was a tall man in a suit, and his face was the moon. You said that was why he was so tall, so he could keep his head in the sky at night. Apparently he had a lot of arms so he could hold up the stars. Very creative, Al. I should have known you'd be a writer. I seem to remember you playing a lot of hide and seek with Mr. Moon, especially in the forest. You used to scare Caroline and I half to death playing back there- you'd disappear for hours on end, and we'd have to go out there and bring you home almost every night. That was why we started having Grandma Alice give you painting lessons, remember? We wanted to keep you in sight. Thank God Andrew never went wandering around in the woods, or we would've lost one of you.

I'm relieved at least that Andrew never saw it...I'm sure Mom or Aunt Caroline would say something if we'd had the same "imaginary friend".

And, the last part of this: Officer Clinton (the officer I've been talking to most about what happened with Jill, remember?) called last night. He asked if I was okay, which was nice of him, and told me I won't have to testify against Daniel for a while. Apparently Daniel's very ill, no one's sure what from, but it's similar to what would happen if he were exposed to high doses of radiation, only much faster acting. He's in ICU or whatever the secure version of that is...I don't know how to feel about it right now. Mostly I'm just glad he can't come get me.

Trying to remember what happened when I was a kid is off the table for now. It'll stay off the table unless things get desperate. And that's all I've got to say for now.

1 comment:

  1. Despite everything that's happened in these last few days, it sounds like you're keeping it together pretty well. I don't know if I could be that strong. I wish I could do more to help than just send you my positive thoughts.