Chronicle 021 ~The Letter B Moves~

What’s doing more blinking, the cursor on the page or my eyes. B’s who I miss the most right now, but that’s not what my book is saying. I can’t fail B this month as I did in January, but that requires me to get up and move. The Letter B Moves

Thursday, July 22, 2021

Chronicle 021 ~The Letter B Moves~

172 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Should I even try to tell you about mine? No, I haven’t even lived it.

Today is Tuesday, and I’m trying to stay ahead. Do you remember when you were sick? You don’t want to, right but let me get this out. If I could do it again, B III, I’d pick you up and rush you to Banfield Hospital right this second. Could they have saved you B III? Yeah, because I was much too busy. It’s been the theme of this week. There is so much to do, and when I have time, what do I do. Today I had to talk to two of the girls and get to writing your novel. We’ll get to that, but I believe you know what the answer is Triple B.
You’re not sitting under the table or in my lap.

All the time in the world B, and money, Ha. How many times did you hear me talking about writing? Now instead of books, I want to go right back to bed. It’s a miracle that I even got to the table today. Of course, by the time you read this, I’ll be right back there. Yes, the Day Job remains horrible, which is one of the reasons I am writing to you today. It’s like anyone asking me there, “How are you?” I should say “Pissed” and then “Wait.” It’s only a matter of moments before THEY do something to fulfill such a prophecy. “Daddy, what about me?” I hear you, Braxton; I do, but like the novel, I’m writing. Nothing moves anymore, son.

If it hadn’t been 172 Days, I would think you left only yesterday. I was telling Dear Future Wife, the mom you’ll never get to know, that the tears I continue to shed are cleansing. Um, it’s like I’m in ice, nothing can get to me between, bed, boobs, and you B III it’s cold. Braxton sometimes, I melt, and I go everywhere. It’s as if I overflow, but then there’s not enough of me to fill up any glass. The bed’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. I miss being a monk; that’s how you always were, my Pancake. I haven’t eaten anything. I have to keep the cursor moving; I don’t want to fall even further behind. Trying, The Letter B Moves.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

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