Excerpts from a second letter home

July 24, 2002

The pre-recorded message on the fire alarm had a southern accent.

I spent the sunrise underneath the flag, on a grass island, watching a skeleton crew hospital staff stand around talking. There's a kid from reception here in this second limbo, and this is starting to feel like some bizarre movie. We didn't say hi or even acknowledge each other. But I know we recognized each other...

I keep thinking of Philly and civilian life. I keep hearing Roy Ayers' "Everybody Loves the Sunshine" playing in my head. I keep seeing green trees shining lime from the sun behind him, swaying in the summer wind. I see them through my memory, back when I was a child in the 80's.

My life, my life, my life...in the sunshine...

Philly is truly a wonderful city, one I would never want to leave again. My thoughts are always with you, mom and Philly. It is my holy trinity and I've been taken so far away from it.

The psychological effects of these past 3 or 4 weeks have been tremendous. I certainly won't be the same, but I think in a good way. I think many good things have come out of this...

I just talked to the doctor. I'll be here for another day. A normal enzyme count in the body should be aroun 350. I had over 11,000. [Ed. note: !!!] The lab had to dilute my blood 10 times to get their results. The only real cure for this is to constantly drink water, which is all I do.

My life, my life, my life,...in the sunshine...

I see Girard Ave during the summer in the 80s. It's yellow, orange, white and brown. I see red brick buildings from my old neighborhood. I see my mom in her 30's, I see old photographs of her holding me as a newborn. I remember elementary school. I remember my old friends and old playgrounds.

...the doctor said, "Everything happens for a reason. You might not realize it until 10 or 15 years later but there's a reason these things happen when they do." Perhaps she's right or maybe it's just the (bad) luck of the draw. Either way, that doesn't affect the fact that I'm laying in a sickward bed, writing these words to you and myself, watching my plans slip away like my deteriorating muscles.

The nighttime walk to Derek & Sarah's apartment. Thinking about it now. I miss my Kangol hat and my rockstar sunglasses...

...the doctor said it was good I was urinating every hour and that it was clear. It means my kidneys are clean and doing good.

...To call this place the end of the earth would be an accurate description, however it would also rob other such miserable places of their god-given right to be just as depressing.

[If you would like to send defect a note, you may email them to me at [email protected] and I'll print them out and include them in my next batch of letters to him. Estree]