Evening my lovely Mol,
Hope you are well up there, love.
I’m sure you are.
Slept very little last night, for fearing off having an accident.
I can hardly see to write this, so will make it quick and try and sleep.
A lady from something called Clear Minds rang this afternoon. She said it was about that thing Dr. Laurie’s son, Dr Laurie, had mentioned. That therapy thing. I’m a bit too shattered to remember the exact name. I’d quite forgotten that they were calling and I can’t really remember the full conversation, but I thought it was you on the other end of the phone at first. Silly, eh? But she had your kind voice, Mol.
She asked how I was and, because I still heard you in her tone, I told her how I’ve not been feeling too good.
She gave me a number for the Samaritans and another helpline and said that she would be making me an appointment to see someone.
I’m not sure what good it will do, but I said yes anyway. It’s taken this long for them to ring, so I’m not banking on hearing anything from before summer.
Just in case, though, I tried to go outside in the garden. I didn’t want to having a funny turn on the way to wherever it is they’ll send me.
I got halfway done the path when I realised I was still in my pyjamas.
I can hear you laughing now.
I was too embarrassed to have a funny turn I think. I all but ran back inside, love.
Maybe I should go to the appointment in my pyjamas, eh?
If I’m being honest, Mol, it was nice to talk to someone about all this.
I only wish it was you.
Anyway, as I say, I’m shattered.
Come to see me in my dreams?
I do hope so.