BEAR SAVO

writer

On the morning of my 40th birthday I was  summoned to the bedside of a dying friend.


He asked if I was still writing.


“No, not really,” I answered.


He shook his head and changed the subject. We reminisced until he was too tired to talk.


I said goodbye.


He departed soon after but his disappointment persists.


I figure I’ll have plenty of regrets on my deathbed. Not writing shouldn’t be one of them.

image4