Its Sunday morning that I miss you the most.
Sunday. I think Aunt Martha misses going to church. "I'm sorry," I want to tell her. "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I asked to stop going. I'm sorry I killed the faith."
She never asked a lot from me. Not after Uncle Nate died. Not after Kara moved out and I was the only one that could look after Sissy while everyone else was at work. Not after word came in about our parents. Not after I seperated from myself and became less than all I ever was. She never asked for more of me.
But should she have to?
`Cambell Din, 22.August.2007













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