Facing loss makes me want to do crazy things.
I want to listen to Wasted Days and Wasted Nights until I start to resemble Freddy Fender.
I want to drive around until I see a Mexican man. And when I find him I will ask him:
“Do you mind if I hug you? My Dad was a Mexican, but he is far away right now so you will have to do.”
I drove past a dead cat on the side of the road this morning.
I almost pulled over so that I could scoop him into my arms,
so that I could run from house to house asking:
“Is this your cat? I thought you might want to stroke his fur one last time.”
Facing loss, I find that while driving, I’m not traveling down a road, but rather
the road and all the surrounding trees and Starbucks and Office Depots suddenly pop up out of nowhere and hit me in the face.