End of Summer
This is about the time that all the trees with their dried out leaves begin to whisper about the Fall. It is a time of year I normally love. This year it is tainted and darker. There is more than just random stories in the chatter of the leaves. More than just a collection of memories from the stretched days of spring and summer. This year there is a hushed conversation. Tentative and strained. It feels like the preparation for a reenactment of that day. The day that will come again in about 3 week's time. The day the police officer and his irritating sidekick (what was she? Victim's services? I don't even remember, her demeanor made me cringe, even in my shock) arrived to say those words "I'm sorry to inform you, at about 2:30 this afternoon, your daughter passed away". I feel it like yesterday. And it feels as though it is building up toward that scene once more. A horrible anniversary special. Autumn has always been my favourite time and I recall last autum