Back to Reality.

I spent my reading week out with my family. The flights were cheap and they didn’t give me cookies. 

I roamed the city with my Dad, cutting down on cigarettes as fast as I could. I went bowling with my friends, we were sick, we were tired, but the company couldn’t be beat.

My Dad and I consumed cup after cup of coffee, and avoided the apartment like a plague. He’s haunted there, I keep trying to convince him to get a cat.

Only one brother is taller than me still, and the other I can still wrap my arms around in public, with only a little bit of a struggle.

I feel both at home and out of place out there. Like I might have been there in another life.  But that’s not this life.

I came home to a purring and screaming cat, and the ecstatic dog.  My boyfriend wrapped his arms around me at the airport, and I felt 100% correct.  In the correct place, in the correct life, with all the things I needed.

I miss my Dad terribly, we would talk long after we shut off the lights. 

But here, my cat is curled up on the mat at my feet, happy to have me in the vicinity.  My brother is writing a book.  His vocabulary makes me proud. 

I have a new agenda in front of me. It’s perfection. It is the perfect cup of coffee.  It is the right notes of beautiful and functional.  And it is quickly filling with “real life”.  Doctor, vet and dentist appointments.  The rapidly approaching deadline of that paper I ignored all week.  But it’s correct. It’s the business that gets me through my days.  It’s the plans I need to feel content.

After all this rambling, I hope you readers have had as wonderful a week as i have. And if you’ll excuse me for rambling on in a non-directional fashion… I am going to go curl up next to my boyfriend and watch Flight.  Because this is exactly where I need to be.


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