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Saturday, Sept. 21, 2002 - 4:45 p.m.

I hate when he leaves.

I've said some of this before but that's too bad, because I'm saying it again.

I look around my room and I see his smile and hear his laughter echo through the room. He was only here a few moments ago and then I had to kiss him goodbye. He had to go home, to his real home and I don't know when I'll get to see him again. I'm sure it will be soon, but it won't be soon enough for me.

I look at my bed and can see the two of us wrestling together, me tickling him, covering him in kisses, and me singing to him as he calms down and just stares at me contently.

And then I cry all over again.




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