Missing My Brain

I sorely miss my brain.  Such a good friend it was.  We used to spend time together, reliving old memories, creating distant worlds...My brain found me to be insightful, funny, interesting, delightful company.  The feeling was mutual.  We were pen pals.  Yes, we'd write each other letters, in a beautiful leather-bound book with gold edging on the pages, immortalizing our time together.  It seems my time with my brain is almost as rare as my time with other good friends.  You know what?  It feels more rare.  How is that even possible?  Constant distractions, piercing cries of hunger or discomfort, arguments or play break the air at regular intervals, shattering the time I hold so dear - day and night. 

They say I will miss these times.  I'm sure I will.  But I think I miss my brain more.