hey CA

In the Philadelphia Airport, a security guard said, "Didn't I just tell you to take your cat out; you don't want to put a cat through the X-Ray machine. And again, you need to take off the sweater around your waist." She said it like I needed a babysitter. Or a helmet. "You're right, I don't want to X-Ray her. I was taking her out slowly because she's really scared," I said. I wanted to say, "I'm not stupid, I'm great, and you're bad at life." My eyes teared up because I hate when people talk like that. When I was putting Ebony back in her case a little girl- nine maybe- in a hot pink shirt said, "Love your cat." "Sorry?" I said. "I said, I love your cat. She's fabulous." And my eyes teared up again because she'd erased the security guard.

I saw the fam as I was coming down the escalator. They jumped and grinned. I'm finding, I think, that we are all sensitive from too many recent changes, like cold hands that burn when held under water that's only tepid. Things in the world- like a sigh- feel extreme, even though they probably aren't. Mom, why are you breathing that way? I don't ask that, but I do almost say, Tell me anything right now to all members of my family all the time. I want to know how they are.

The house looks like my family's house. It's wooden interiors and bright spaces look like my mom. The small moments of beauty- an old picture in the back of a shelf that you have to peer at from up close- look like my dad. Lindsay is everywhere in classy black frames and pottery arrangements. The dogs pant and shed. The views shake your heart up.

Pictures are coming.

Yosemite is coming.

My Mac is coming.

No more posts are coming for at least another week, though.