Poem to Judy.

1998 ended and 1999 began in flashes, everything too big and everything right now. Everything serious. I painted a picture outside on New Years Eve because Judy and I had some kind of an argument about something I can't remember, and she went to bed. I finished my work and wished it hadn't been like that but that's what this life is like.

I tried to explain in the following poem to Judy.

Perfect (for Judy).

I should have been perfect

more perfect this year than last,

and may have been.

Our lives drift, but not far

coming back at sharp points (like Regina and Jason).

Us, we deal with us

and those that brought us to sharp points.

I should have been more perfect

at “being there” when you needed me,

and I will be working on that.

I should have been more perfect

knowing perfection is not possible,

but worth working on.

I should have been more perfect

but that's what life is about,

that's why there are tomorrows

and why I'm glad my life is with you.

I should have been more perfect (I love you Judy).

December 31st. 1998 (our 9th anniversary)

She came in tonight as I was lying in bed asking, "What were you doing?"

"Taking photographs off the back porch as the light reflects from the ice covering our yard."

She went down stairs. I don't know why.

1/4/99

Tomorrow, Tuesday, awaits.