February 30, 2012

To the elderly man residing in the house on the decline, 

How do you do? It has been too long. 

There are twenty ants in my peripheral. 

I thought I should let you know. 

They are the height of four or five senior-sized footballs  

stacked on top of one another. 

When I lay down in the evening, they come out and watch. 

Do not worry for me; I feel they are not here to harm.  

Although I must admit their clicks and pops are somewhat unsettling.  

I write to you today not because of the ants, no; 

rather to catch you up on my happenings since we last conversed.

I have just returned from a lengthy expedition in the alps. 

You would not believe the height we ascended. 

Unfortunately, we had a fall and found ourselves in a cavern. 

My memory of this time is gone. 

I do not have the time or space to share all my ventures. 

But if I were to list the highlights: 

I was fortunate enough to share a meal with a famous person

(I forget their name)

and I had an encounter with a deep unsettling hum 

and I dodged a lethal knife swung at me by the local priest

and I flew a rocket ship into space

and it fell apart but it was okay because I could float

and I went to New World to buy ChapStick 

and cereal but unfortunately aisle twenty-three caught on fire

and I adopted an unusually long dachshund at the checkout

and I got home to find I had seven bunches of bananas

and I think you would agree when I say 

that is too many bananas 

for a small boy such as myself. 

I have been having the most mysterious dreams as of late. 

Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with the details. 

Dreams within dreams within dreams, like the film with that fella.

(I realise upon proof-reading that you likely haven’t seen it) 

You’ll be pleased to hear you have featured in a few. 

You always appear when I least expect it. 

You’re just as funny there as in the real world. 

You leave us in tears. 

I must be off now. It seems the ants are moving out. 

I would love to tell you more, but 

I probably won’t see them ever again. 

I must be sure to give them a proper goodbye. Fool me twice. 

I trust you understand my logic. And 

I do hope you write back,

I miss you dearly. 

With love, 

Grandson.

This isn’t quite the proper version of A Proper Goodbye. Formatting is strange on this website. WordPress doesn’t like things that look good. The PDF below is what is is supposed to look like.