Excerpt from Chapter V
Dear Pop

I am a little confused about life right now. It all seemed so clear and easy when you were alive. Now that you’re dead and gone, I get confused. I’m not sure which way to go. If only you were here to guide me and give me some words of wisdom.

Then, I was young and had long flowing curly hair and not a care in the world, and I always had you to rely on. Even when I lived abroad for those years, your monthly letters were soothing and helpful. They made me realize how lucky I was to have you. I kept all of them. Occasionally, I pull them out of the attic and blow the dust off them and read them. They bring a tear to my eye, because I know that you’re still with me somehow, trying to push me in the right direction in spite of myself.

Now it’s all a maze. I can’t seem to get on track. I’m spinning my wheels. I’m happy but I’m not. I’m always on the move. I’m like an arrow that has missed its mark. Fast and swift but somehow off kilter. I need my feathers adjusted. A swift kick in the ass, as you used to say.

The other day, I was sitting at my desk thinking and writing. I looked up and there you were all smiles. That beautiful picture of yours hangs above my desk. You remember the one Thomas took at Thanksgiving? You remember Thomas whose mother, as you so aptly put it, was old round heels? You’re wearing your warm, blue, long-sleeve sweater open to the front with that v-neck shirt underneath. Your hair was recently cut short, and you still have your goatee and mustache. Your arms are resting on the table with knife and fork in hand. Ah, what a picture! As I looked up, I swear I saw that same twinkle in your eyes, that same one you always had when I came home. Your eyes seemed to shift and follow my every movement. You were gazing at me. Somehow you’re telling me to get back to where I was, as if I had somehow gone astray or as if I was not able to focus. You’re telling me I need purpose again. Sure, I make good money, lots of it, but somehow that’s not enough. I’ve got a family, a beautiful family, but somehow that’s not enough. Nothing is enough. I feel empty, lost, confused, and bewildered. Please give me some direction.

—Reprinted from Foam Reality by Bill Cornish by permission of Desert Bloom Press. Copyright © Bill Cornish, 2007. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced without permission.