I go to bed after football and a shower. Taylor wasn’t home yet, but I’ll hear her come in if I leave my door open.
I shut off my lights and stare at the ceiling into the darkness.
Their way of coping.
I guess they have their way, and I have mine. Biking and photography have become huge outlets. I prefer talking and being with people, and especially reminiscing about Mom. The Larsens are fantastic, and I can speak freely with Evan. But they aren’t always available, though they would drop everything if I needed them.
Instead, I usually retreat into my fall-back. My imagination gets a little dark. I’ll periodically imagine what would happen if certain people died. Different scenarios. How I’d feel. The fallout. The funeral. It’s probably not the healthiest thing, but I chalk it up to me
