I once asked you why you moved to Colorado, and you said, “I always wanted to be a cowboy.  Didn’t you?”

We all seem to want so many things, from each other and for each other.  I don’t know what all the time you weren’t in my life means, or what it means that I wasn’t in yours until the night our father was dying.  I only know that it was as if you had always been there, you and Felice, belonging with us.  And that discomforting joy amidst catastrophe rent a light leak in my heart that I have determined to make worse, until it has completely healed.

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