It’s not Amber who haunts my dreams now; instead it’s my lost lamb of a daughter. I’m almost grateful
for those clammy nighttime flights of fancy, even though they make me ache with loss. Seeing her face,
believing – however fleetingly – that we truly are together, is all the joy I can find within this
monochrome existence of mine. I’m not d epressed; I’m just truthful with myself. It’s a very different
thing.