I'm Not Runnin' Anymore

Irv here-

This Thanksgiving will be one year since my grandparents and the social worker died. I'm not going to live with this anymore.

You can't live with lies. My father couldn't. I can't either.

I'm sitting at the Park Presidio. I'm writing this by hand and then I'm going to transcribe it at an Internet Cafe. I'm sitting on the rocks west of the Bridge and the air is cold - smells of brine and the waves are high in a strong wind. People are out on their sailboats, living lives that aren't anything like mine.

Uncle Vick, you can meet me at the place you took me here when I was 21. Remember? I'm not afraid of you. I guess, I never really was. Meet me there at the same time tomorrow as when we visited way back then.

Thank God, I've got a warm navy coat on. Some young guy followed me around all this morning asking me if I wanted to come home and live with him and his girlfriend and their mom. He said he was a cognitive therapist, but he was twitching slightly like his therapy might come from a little vial in his pocket. He said he knew Candice Bergen personally and that he'd introduce me to her at Christmas.

I told him thanks, but I had more important things on my mind.

Until tomorrow, Uncle Vick.
And Kwan, I love you as much as you are capable of receiving.

Irv at the Ocean.