Waking


Dear Eugene,

This morning I woke up to a regret and I didn't know what it was.

A general regret.

Roughly speaking I am satisfied with my life.  Roughly feeling I know there is something more and I haven't done my best to live my best.

Yesterday I was talking to my neighbor, probably only the third time since his stroke (as compared to biweekly before), and he spoke again these final words to close the conversation, as if it's only proper: "Life is precious."  Again tears welled up in his eyes, those good humor, heaven-can-wait eyes of his.  I can see how he could score with only a look when he was still playing hockey.

When he was still...

Here I am still.  Still longing to be a wonder child.

Yours, Alex

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