I feel slightly annoyed as my bags are loaded and I enter a most unsuitable transport. A micro thin layer of water layers the back-seat floor. A standard quick greeting is exchanged. The driver questions, "what are you doing back here"? I grumble. A discussion of complex dice gaming systems starts within seconds. I reveal a new betting system I have been thinking about. The discussion carries over into a poorly staffed local Denny's, thus code named "the 30 minute Denny's" because it takes 30 minutes to place your order. I am corrected on a few finer points of the projected system. At which time, the final version of the system is agreed on. The conversation switches to politics and a local con-man's business practices. I notice the couple seated on my right whispering at our comments. At this point, I have been awake for two days and have that all to familiar jet-lag feeling. I feel unable to eat more than a bite or two of my "Moons over my turkey" (really "Moons over my hammy" but I always substitute ham for turkey). I mention, I have to pickup my mail.
We depart with the same driver who has been unlicensed for one reason or another for at least 3 years. Yet, he is always the chosen driver, I can't explain. He does a classic death-wish driving maneuver to get a better position for the left turn back to his home. We the helpless passengers, look on in silent amazement. We make the turn at which time my friend remembers my mail which is in the opposite direction. He pulls another driving maneuver, the type that is best forgotten. We look on in silent amazement. We double park outside the mail store as I run inside to grab my normal small trash bag of mail.
Surprisingly, it is only a small handful with one big yellow package that stands out in particular. I notice there is no name on the return address. But yet the return address has a strangeness to it. A spin that reminds me of SK's birthday, humm. I open the package in a light rain. A few drops of rain hit the page before I realize it is from you and, hence of value to me. I wipe a big drop of rain from the page, it smear a letter slightly. I replace the contains in the package with out finishing, slightly refreshed at is arrival.
And now I seat in lotus position, typing you this note while listening to "Lemon Tree Home Away". With memories of my dear mother, she always called me "Lemon" as a play on my middle name. Looking down at your aegis, such a lost and lonely face. The lyrics seem so clear to me.
Trying to think of the right word to say.