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July 10th, 1978
Downtown I walk with my eyes balanced so that I catch my reflection in store windows as I pass. Each vision makes me wince with disgust. But I keep on watching as if suddenly I will see the image I want. I have become overweight and slouched with my embarrassment of it. I see young bright faced boys and their tight flat stomachs and wonder how I stopped being that way without knowing it.
Washington wallows in summer heat. Humidity hangs like fog over the noontime noise and sluggish movement to downtown D.C.
Nothing matters to me now. The flood waters that carried me here so many years ago have receded with the death of my father and I am left beached. Now that I am no longer running away, I seem to have lost my purpose. My years with Richard; my striving to make home in so many different circumstances; my romances; my jobs– all have been efforts to avoid the basic lack of direction I’ve always felt.
Now I string my days together like hollow beads joining bi-monthly pay checks together, blankly waiting for that day when my debts are paid and I can fly away to Key West and become a writer.