tia susan...tia susan....

I miss the pitter patter of little feet. Last Saturday we woke-up with Allison lying horizontally at the end of the bed. Just a week ago.

Strange the sound of "Susan" again and again. In reference. In being. A name long lost. Returned by translation. "Susan"....

Looking forward to crashing at the house on Margarita Island in January...and the sound of "Tia Susan."