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‘Hi, honey – what the hell is going on here?’ I turned to see a man about my height, very muscular, with a receding hairline. He was holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne. Before I could say anything, Amy turned, and blurted out, ‘Paul, this is Jamie. He’s not dead. And I don’t’ know what to do.’ Paul blanched, and carefully put the flowers down in the sink. We all sat at the kitchen table while Amy and I told our stories. Amy told most of the story, while I sort of played with James. My attention was distracted a whole lot, but it was the first time I had seen my son, so perhaps that can be forgiven. After all was said and done, Paul looked around the table, then offered his hand. ‘We haven’t been formally introduced, but I am Paul Palmer, and I am not at all sure of my relationship to Amy. I suspect that you are still her husband, and I am just an outsider. That one we will have to sort out of the next couple of days, but for now, welcome to my home.’ We shook. Holding that big ziplock full of dreams ... I missed my man.Take that anyway you wish.I laughed.Chuck looked the question.Back down the road a piece, there was a sort of a visitors center ... kinda. A wide spot with a pull off that made a turn or two and ended up in a parking lot.There was a sign board commemorating the Show of Shows. It listed the bands ... some of whom I’d never heard of ... and some of the eventual greats; Santana, Hendricks, Grace Slick and the Airplane.And people I’d never heard of.God ... and I missed it ... I missed Hairy so much. I needed to mellow.“Ok, Chuck. Fill your bowl.” I tossed him the bag.Snatching it out of the air, he fished out a brass Proto pipe, the one with the swivel cap and a cleaner rod along side. Opening the bag ... and letting out the skunk again, he didn’t hesitate, sorting through the buds until he found the One.It was red haired, tight and full of crystal. He looked it over carefully, sniffed it, tongued the bud to dampen it ... so it.
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