One Week

I started this week off by visiting City Hall to get copies of my first boyfriend's death certificate. Long story, ask me later. Suffice it to say that although we parted on singularly bad terms, and this was decades ago, it still made me sad to be thinking about his death.



Then today, my first friend, Gigi, told me her mom has relocated to Philadelphia. This is good for her, because she will be close to Gigi.



But this is devastating to me, because, as I'm sure I've written in this blog previously, Gigi's house was my ideal PLACE. When I think of "home", I envision that little house, with the piano on which I rudely pounded at every opportunity, the screened in porch, the beautiful pictures on the walls, the little table where we colored Easter eggs. To think that my visit last July was my last one, and I didn't even know it. I did take a picture, but I wish I had taken many more. I will have to do what I did when I moved out of what I called "my old house" into the "new house", and draw pictures to remember.

So many things happen for the last time, and we don't realize it, so we don't pay the amount of attention we should. So, I suppose, we should all pay as much attention as possible, always.