It’s Me Again Margaret…

June 19, 2008

Here I is, yo.  It’s thirty after ten and I’m writing again.  Bo chicka doo chicka bonka do day.

Dear Dad,

I bet you gave up on me.  I took a long break.  Things were so crazy busy there was no time left in the day to post.  I just needed to sleep.

Today you’re in luck.  I fell asleep for a 1/2 hour and then woke up.  Now I can’t sleep.  No.  Not like I used to.

So, I will use this time to post.  What should I write about?

I should tell you that I’m still sadly waiting for the ice skating rink.  Everyday I wake up and look out into the back yard thinking I will one day see a huge pink building with ribbons and lace decorating the outside.  I imagine walls but no roof.  This would symbolize safety and freedom.  There would be an unending rink of ice on the inside.  Silver and shaded.  No seats.  If you won’t get on the ice, you can’t come in.

Music of every shape and form will billow from the lack of rooftop.  Concert on the inside with quality of sound so high, that you escape your reality and melt within the ice.  The wind blowing through my hair and the music flowing through my veins.  No reason to open my eyes.  No reason to close them.

Did you lie to me dad?  Will I ever see my ice skating rink?  Is the tooth fairy real?  Who is Santa?  Milk Man??? At least let it be the Post Man.  They have better benefits.

With love,

Your-no-longer-in-denial-I-have-finally-realized-you-lied, Daughter.


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