dear_newsom raze in five days it'll be a year since i lost you. it's hard to wrap my head around the idea that you've been gone that long. the park is a different place without you. it's lonelier. most of your friends and foes are dust and bones. brownie and butterscotch are the only members of the old guard still standing. i never thought they would outlast everyone. they both used to be so afraid of everything. now they're brave and wise. like you were. some things i wish you'd seen today: two fledglings foraging without adult supervision. an empty paper wrapper in the parking lot that looked like a finger torn from the damp hand of an abstract painting. speed racer's brown belly. bailey standing tall to be fed. cranberry sauce hanging bat-like from her tree. thousands of gold ash leaves that speckled the path. not so long ago, i had four friends who would eat from my hand. now most days i have none. everyone's busy. they can feel the cold creeping in. they know this late summer surge won't last. they need to fortify their homes and hearts against winter's weaponry. i know junior is your daughter. the day you died, she almost had me convinced she was you. i built a bond with her not so different from the one we shared. i don't know what changed. one day she started acting like she didn't know me. and that was that. i don't see much of her anymore. when i do, she tends to keep her distance. this afternoon she sought me out. she let me feed her by hand seventeen times. she never backed away from me. i think you gave her a nudge and told her i needed her. it felt like having you with me again, if only for a moment. i still say your name when i reach the place we used to say hello. every time. 231003 what's it to you? who go blather from