Off to Nantucket without Morrison and the kids and I can literally feel every mile that the car, plane and ferry will take me away from them. Joe drew me each vehicle this morning, the last in a series of drawings he gave me to put on the walls where I’m staying so that I’ll ‘look at the pictures, and think of him and miss him.’ It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or how great it is, it will never feel right to be so far away from them, I imagine earthquakes that split the world in half and I can’t get to them. A few days ago my brain wrote a song that has turned into a mantra. Please join me in my heart’s anxious song and sing along, to the lively tune of She’ll be riding six white horses when she comes.
The worst thing probably won’t happen (but it could)
The worst thing probably won’t happen (but it could)
The worst thing probably won’t happen but you still think that it will happen
The worst thing probably won’t happen (but it could)
The worst thing probably won’t happen (but it might)
The worst thing probably won’t happen (but it might)
The worst thing probably won’t happen so you pray that it won’t happen
The worst thing probably won’t happen (so it won’t)