From Peggy Lunderville

I wrote what follows a while ago, so many thoughts of what to say and never the right time to post it. I want to have this for myself to remember how I was feeling. But. There is both reluctance and hope that others might know my feelings.

My mind knows the reality, but my heart copes better with fantasy.

The day John left us, the earth shuddered. I shook myself, in shock. I looked around. What? What? There must have been a universe quake, a rift in time and space so enormous that it put us in an alternate universe with no way back. A universe where John does not exist. There are relics. But no John. John always listened carefully in circle and felt the quality of all the persons in the filk room, at that time and in that place. Present. Then he would know what song would make a follower, at that time and in that room. Not necessarily that his was the unique follower that must be sung. Often he was delighted with alternatives that presented themselves. Now, here, am I. In this alternate universe where John does not exist. What follower can there possibly be?

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