Saturday, June 21, 1997
Dear Nova,
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve woken up, forgetting where I am and where you are too. It’s only for a second, but it happens nearly every day. It’s like waking up with amnesia and, each time, becoming more inventive and practiced in delivering the news to myself that you’re still gone, and I live somewhere else now. But while my heart still aches every day, I’m starting to notice my mood slowly shifting in its shape and color.
In the mornings, I sense a feeling that begins as a flat, melancholy gray and builds to a sharp, angsty black by the time I get onto my feet. Once I’m dressed and out my bedroom door, it’s settled back down again into something calmer and more muted. It’s dark but perhaps contains a hint of color—a deep blue or purpl
