Hail to Whatever You Found in the Sunlight That Surrounds You

My name is Lonny. My mom said that she named me after Lon Chaney Jr., the Man with a Thousand Faces. We used to watch his movies together -- she bought one of those big cheap DVD collections that had a bunch of horror movies in it and we would sit on the couch and watch The Wolfman and The Mummy and Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein.

I hadn't seen her that much before she died. I had moved away for college and then I found a job in a different city and I just never got around to returning. I called her sometimes and she called me sometimes and we would talk, but it's not the same as actually being there.

The last time I saw her was Christmas. I stayed at home for a day and we had a nice time, though I think something was bothering her. She was distracted by something. I don't know what it was, but I'm sorry I never asked her about it. I never asked her if she was okay.

And then she died. The police called me at work. I don't usually answer my cell phone when I'm working, but this time I did for some reason. Maybe I just knew it was something bad.

It was a police officer. They told me that my mother had been in some sort of accident. I still don't know much about it. I don't know how she died. They never told me and I never asked.

Why didn't I ask? Why didn't I want to know?

Sometimes I remember those times we watched The Wolf Man and I remember that rhyme Lon Chaney is told about:

Even a man who is pure in heart

and says his prayers by night

may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms

and the autumn moon is bright.

See you later,
Lonny