shielded raze the last time i was here was six years ago. summer of edna. i can't remember any stories. all i've carried with me is this fishing cap. now here's a married couple who won't sell it at an online auction, though it would fetch a pretty penny if they did. they know what the hat means to me. it's all that's left of the ghost who once wore it. "we should work out a shared custody arrangement," i tell the woman with tears swimming in her eyes. "you were just as much of a mother to her as i ever was." i might not have brought her into this world, but i held her in my arms when she was leaving and told her it was okay to go when what i wanted to say was stay. just stay. now she hugs my head and stops the sun from stinging my eyes. when i've got her for the weekend, i mean. this whole visitation situation still needs some fine-tuning. but isn't that true of almost_everything we do? 260509 what's it to you? who go blather from