Easton Beach

In class right now. It is a brisk, er cold, morning in the Philly area. Lots of craziness going on. Hoping that the next few days are less crazy than the last week was. I am on a mad dash to get out of here, but don’t want to make any rash decisions. This morning I really can just see you enjoying your coffee, the sun on the concrete front steps, a bus or two coming down Grant and the sound traveling through the clean front door and out the back window. I can maybe see you on the phone with one of the girls, maybe Lam coming down the steps and you guys having a little slow, quiet convo. Maybe a text from your sister or me to see what you’re up to. You probably suggesting we should go somewhere or do something. Oh how I wish I could just do it that easily now. Maybe you had plans to “run some errands” or pick up a Craiglist find. Kathy is shutting the trailer down this morning. It always makes me sad as we close out another year. I got down a few times. Always a nice time. I often wonder where you are and wonder how much you miss us. That’s painful. You are not missing anything around my way. It will be tough to leave, but it is way past my time to leave. I still have a lot of the stuff you helped me with here. Especially the bar of soap we used to clean the baseboards. Haha. I remember when I sprayed bleach/water on them and you almost killed me. I was like, bleach kills everything. Haha. You would be sad to know they knocked down my old building. We tried to save it, but greed and overdevelopment seem to be the common theme in this city. They took it down quick and salvaged nothing and now some 38-foot monstrosity is going up where it will block all the neighbors view of trees and sun and just anything open to make way for a 30-40 unit terd apartment building with 30-40 parking spots. You couldn’t even find parking on our street when you would come here. I remember you would always park on Hermitage, finish your cigarette and then you would text me you were here. It was always great to see you at the front door. Always a smile, always a “heyyyyyyy Bobbyyyyy, I’m here….”. Always excited to be here and doing something outside of Delco. I miss that. I remember you would climb the steps (not easy) like it was Everest. Haha. We sure did need a railing for the “senior citizans” hahahaha. They dug a hole about 15-20ft deep, right up against the wall of my building. I did what you would expect and contacted the city and they actually were violating, but a lot of people filed claims. I was happy the city actually did something. It’s just an empty feeling without you here. I don’t get how you were just ripped from us at such a young age. I wish I just told you to see a doctor, check on yourself when no one else was really thinking about it and poof, 40 years and you’re gone from my life. Some things just don’t seem as fun, as positive, as colorful or funny. I try to just avoid trying to think WWPD…what would Patty do? I see people with their parents still here and I get bitter. I am sure that’s common for those that have lost loved ones. Many times I want to shut it down and just go away…..on some adventures. I laughed the other day about our first Newport trip. I know exactlt where I was walking, where you were like, “Bobby, I need a break….” Your worn out feet so tired, not just from the walk, but from being on your feet for just about 4 decades. Now I know why you got on the couch when you got home. I get that now. I get that you just needed some time to rest. I wish I could’ve given you more time and a place that you were just able to relax and what not. Kick your feet up as they say. I used to have lots of questions about life. Most of the common ones we all have. Now I just really have a few. Maybe three. I gotta get going. Class is over. I know how you love this time of year. Even if it is cold. In my dreams you are out and about and calling us and just enjoying life and freedom. I am actually happy you don’t have to deal with the bullshit going on these days. I am happy that we never wasted time talking about politics or stuff that really we can’t change, but we see. So over it. Til next time Mom. Love Bobby…






PS…If we could do this life again I would ask that you didn’t put those terrible plastic masks on me where my breath would cause a sweaty cold mess on the inside. Thanxxxxxxxx.


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