It's going to hurt a little.
[2003-06-23 - 10:37 p.m.]

Tomorrow's the funeral. That's when they'll put him in the ground for good. We will hear the words, contemplate the shiney casket as it's about to be buried in dirt, meet memory on a long shadey driveway, and weep. My heart is getting thick and heavy in anticipation.

When I think of summer days we spent together, I always come back to the long, narrow, winding driveway from the highway to Gramma's house, and my grandparents` garden. It echoes to this day with our childish conversations and quarrels. The turns kept us a bit on edge, never knowing if we would find ourselves staring into the grill of a slow approaching car or if we were simply being observed by snakes or big, juicy wasps, all to steal a taste of a sweet, fresh cuke, still gritty with Salem's dirt.

The weather man says it's going to be sunny and hot tomorrow. Just like when we were kids, all of us outside together for one last time.

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