They were never able to do it without waking me.Until now, I had never lived in a place where I felt safe enough to let my guard down. Not even when I...was sleeping. This morning is different. I am dreaming of our realtor. I don’t know if it is a product of having a split-brain or some other anomaly, but when I dream, I often seriously think about real-world things.In my dream, I am sitting at my desk, and the song Faith by George Michael is playing. In walks Sorrel. She spins my chair, so I am. And he had lived everyday with the proof of that love staring him square in the face. There was no one his father, Anthony Marks, loved more in this than his wife and children. Abigail, his mother, was destined for sainthood with her ability to put up with his father’s antics, still continue to love his bonehead-self, and not to mention the fact that she put up with his bonehead offspring. Their love had lasted since they had met when his mother was a twenty-two year old junior in the New York. More

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