Last night I was talking to the soldier about writing his son. “Yeah, I tell him I love you all the time. I tell him allll the time. He probably doesn’t know what to make of it. Some woman loves his dad? How the hell could that happen.”

“Well, P, he probably thinks you’re crazy.”

“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he thinks you’re the crazy one,” I said.

“Well he probably takes that as a given.”

“Oh.  Well at least we’re colorful. That’s got to be something..?”

“Yeah, we’re colorful all right. Lot of good that’s gonna do him. They’re colorful…” He sneered and I laughed.

I was going to tell him how important I think entertainment is but I changed my mind because I was imagining us both colored with crayons and I was so entertained I forgot.