The Sixth Move…

Well, this will be the sixth move since William died in our house, in our bed, where I found him. Now I’m a nomad, searching for answers that I may or may not find. Yeah, Bob and I got into it, again. He’d been drinking. I tried to get out of the conversation, but it didn’t work to good.

Then later around 9 I go to bed, even turn the tv off. I hear him very loudly, calling my name. I thought I was dreaming. He was bent out of shape because the neighbor was playing opera too loud. LMAO. I wanted to choke him, but I didn’t think I had the strength and I’d left my gun back in NC because he’s a convicted felon. I know you got a hundred questions now, but it had to do with kids and it was in the 80’s and blah, blah…anyway this has nothing to do with that. But I’m tired of his smart ass remarks about William and putting me down and changing what he thinks my duties and such for my discounted rent, which he says he pays me for. I’ve never seen the green. 

Then he says I can’t watch his dog while he’s gone out of town because he thinks I’ll kill her. Comes back last night and ask if I was going to keep her. I told him NO. 

He thinks I live in the past, well if what’s happened since William died is any indication of the future, I’ll continue to stay exactly where I am. At least I know William loved and adored me, faults and all. So, off we’ll go on the sixth move…


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