Gramma and Grampa has a plum tree out behind the house that I used to climb in the summers. The plums were great treasures, and I have fond memories of eating them, resting there in the crook. How often do I reach for those plums now in my nearly forty-fourth year of living on this earth. Sometimes I reach for the bad fruit, but it never satisfies the same.
"I am so lonely, but I know there is a plan. There must be. I can muscle through my life until the next move is clear. I miss you all so much. I am alone for most of the time. It's just me and the cats and dogs. Nobody comes up. Nobody stops by. It's not like it used to be -- so full of life. Perhaps I'll move down there with you. But not now. There is a plan, and I must follow it. I must follow it even though it's too quiet around here."
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