I have been trying to keep up with NaPo best I can — but now I just have to accept that I’ve been sidelined. I thought I had an RSI, but it turns out to be a pinched nerve in my neck that gets Very Peeved when I try to work on a computer. So I’m down for the count. (How do you like the mixed-metaphor sports metaphors?)

I’ll still be watching you folks, so don’t let me down. I can live NaPo vicariously. Day 24. Get writing.

Day 13: Burke Street

I saw your face in a video today, one of those
YouTube things. And you were alive and yet frozen
in 1985. I loved you then—the kind of love
you can only have when you are twenty-five
and drunk on Harp and lime. And we sang
those drinking songs loud, and we thought
we would live forever. We thought we’d be
young forever.

And you died anyway, a too-young victim
of a heartless heart attack. And so we banded
together, had the wake that you wanted us
to have. Sometime that night we forgot,
for a moment, why we were there. We sang
into the night. And you would have loved it.
You would have sang with us. Like you did
at the Burke House, that night we thought we’d take
the back deck down.

I’ve never been quite as happy, in quite the same
way, as I was that night. Even the day I married,
the day my child was born. There was some
rare innocence back then. There was you,
me, all of us. And we loved everything.
And we sang.