On Returning from Marathon...

Dad's resting quietly. He's already forgotten about yesterday's tumult, and that's probably a good thing. I can't imagine how frustrating it must be to slip in and out of acuity with no warning (or recompensory souvenir). He sits with a cap on his lap, literally watching cats chasing string on some dire Animal Planet homevid revue. A decade ago he seemed a colossus. Now, he's barely here at all.

I want to reach into my gut and extract five or ten years for him, or at least quick-freeze those fucking cancers, offer some sort of respite... All I can do is love, I guess. It's a goddamned bummer.

TLASILA/Shire updates next time.

TS