Morisato and The Wall

I just made up a word this morning: morisato- (mor-i-sah-toe n.) wanting to laugh with someone who is dead. It sounds so morbid and sad but I don't mean it that way. Whatever it is that first gives you that thought, oh I want to tell so and so, is usually something joyful; or else there is hope that they, and only they, would understand. It's only after that moment, that you hit the wall. Like "Heeeyyy..!" and then "oh".

Are you with me?

Anyway, I was thinking that and then I found this old sketch in some papers this morning, and since I had recently been talking about GP, and because I coined a new word, I thought I'd post.

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Semper Fi

We knew we were close once we hit the dirt road. The sound and feel of the tires on the pebbles and dusty earth was all it took, and we'd be bouncing up and down in the back seat, holding on to the head- rests. GP had once told me that in the hurricane of the 1930s, that the winds were so strong that there was seaweed on the side of the house, and I believed him until I experienced an actual hurricane much later, and realized there was no possible way for seaweed to make it that far. It would have had to travel over 25 miles, through hill and dale, past cornfields, and train tracks and country barns. I laughed out loud when I figured it out, but by then GP wasn't around for me to tell.