Time passes and things change. I am forgetting lots of things, but a recent visit to the doctor says it's not Altzheimers. Not sure I believe him. When I wake up one morning and ask Mike who he is and what's the "H" is he doing in my bed, that'll mean something I guess. Or maybe I won't notice anything odd.
I did not have a happy childhood. But then most of my friends didn't fare too well either. As an adult I look back and wonder how I turned out as relatively normal as I did.
My father died when I was three. My mother remarried when I was six and we moved from a house on the beach to an apartment downtown, and I had to give my cat away. My only sibling, a sister 10 years older, left for college at that time and never came home to live again. Things just went downhill from there.
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