Yesterday I took Walt to the pride festival and he decided that he wants to be a drag queen. He even went up to one of the performers and asked when they were performing again, and was disappointed that he can't get into the nightclub until he's 18. But the performer was really nice and told him to start out looking at makeup tutorials on youtube and practicing at home, so now he's already got a shopping list. It was good to get out for a while yesterday, I have a habit of just hiding out here in the house, and then I'm vaguely surprised when going out makes me feel a little better. But today hasn't been so great. The ache in my chest and tightness in my throat won't go away, and my girlchild is the only thing I can think about. I never know what's going to trigger days like this. A song, a smell, a memory, someone mentioning a movie she loved, or one she would have loved and didn't get to see. That's what gets to me over and over again. We just didn't have enough time. And I wasted too much of what we did have. There were so many things I wanted her to see, to share with her, to ask her and tell her and I have to live with knowing that none of it will ever happen. I don't know what her favorite song was the day she died, and I never asked her if she had one memory that stood out as the best moment of her life. It all feels so horrendously unfinished.