Billy

Photo Billy Sharff

Billy had a sledging accident 6 days ago, my step-mom Laura told me. He went downhill head first crashing full force into a large chunk of ice. It was a concussion. 5 Hours in the emergency room. But he's doing just fine now, she reassured me. We were eating breakfast at the Gemini diner on 35th and Second. I, my iced coffee and oatmeal. Cement. She, eggs over easy, waiting for a buttered English muffin because the waiter misunderstood what she had asked for, bringing her well-done whole wheat toast instead. My sister Nina had finished her hot chocolate with whipped cream. I started to cry. I didn't want to make things worse for you. You were going through such a hard time yourself this week, she continued.

There seemed to be alot of communication problems this past month. Mercury retrograde, Laura explained. Just like at Christmas in New Hampshire when my sister Joanna said it's freezing as we stepped out of her bright-red Honda Fit on our way to see "The Fantastic Mr. Fox." And I thought she said My mouth is bleeding. I'm losing my hearing.

Billy chattered morning to night from birth. He used to come and stay with me in New York until he was 14. It was heart-breakingly sweet to hear him whistling in the other room. We'd explore the city. See foreign films. Then our dad died. And Billy stopped talking. And started making films instead.

Now he just sits quietly on the side when the family gets together and listens. It's hard to get used to. Sometimes I'm not sure if I talk too much or ask him things that annoy him. I miss our times together. That's life I guess. And I wait patiently for the day when he stops signing his emails Best, Billy and uses Love, Billy instead.

(c) 2010