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with absence the heart grows fonder. 6:30 a.m. - 2002-02-03

I am sitting on a dark frozen beach well into the nyte, back lit by a solitary lamp-post. I stare out to where the dark grey water fades into the horizon. Where the dull sky and the waters edge meet is almost inpreceavable.

A cigarette hangs from my gloved right hand, for I am in the habit of writing with my left. It's hard to see the words roll off the pentip because of the shadow i cast over my own paper, yet my midnyte ramblings are fairly legable since i have done myself a favor and learned decient penmanship.

The thin ice on the water is choppy, it is very much like a serrated knife edge that glistens white against a dark granite countertop. The wind coming off the lake seems serrated also, sobering to say the least. I dont mind the cold so much, being out here alone with my thoughts is calming.

I find my thoughts turning to Kyle, I miss you boy. He is often away, pursuing the higher learning aspect of life, which I am accustomed to by now.

When our paths do cross we have a knack for picking up where we left off, with out missing a beat sofar. Theres a real eb and flow quality to it. I am always in good company when he's around.

My fingertips have become numbingly cold, but i can will them comfortable with warm memories, the feeling of being wrapped around warm skin is forever imprinted on these hands. I love these hands, my hands.

As i lit my cigarette just now i looked over and noticed a small toy gun on the bench next to me. Being facinated by it, i picked it up and fingered the trigger. The click of the plastic echoes against the cold silence of the nyte. I think I'll put it in my pocket and take it home with me.

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