look homeward, angel

Kathleen talks about fever dreams. Last night, I lived it. I got in bed at 9:30, thinking I would get out after an hour’s rest, and I didn’t get out. I was hot. I was cold. I was hot again. Somewhere in the middle of it, Steve called a couple of times, but I couldn’t tell you what he said. I remember nearly crying at one point because I was too cold to get out of bed and I had so much to do.
Finally, at 2:30, I woke up and realized I felt … fine. Like a baby bear’s porridge: Not too hot, not too cold, but just right. It occurred to me that I had already gotten a few hours sleep, so why couldn’t I just get up and pack a couple of boxes? But good sense, and my stiff achy joints, talked me out of it. I woke up at 7 a.m., convinced that if I didn’t get out right then I’d end up with bedsores. My getting out of bed was more of a dismount – I stumbled, did a little hop to avoid something in my way, and landed on my wobbly feet with my arms up.

Brooklyn sounds beautiful, and although I’m sad Kathleen is gone, I’m glad her new adventure is proving so wonderful. I knew it would. She should have no regrets. And just look at her prose: “enchanted, limpid quality.” Someone in Brooklyn, let this woman write something for you! Anything! She could make the phone book sound good! (And happy birthday in a couple of weeks, by the way.)

Today, on the phone with my mom, I started crying. She was surprisingly reassuring. “We’re all sad to see you go, but we’re just so proud of you, and we know you’re doing what you have to do,” she said.
I’m going to miss my mom so much.