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It was not snowing when I got back. The airport could not hold me, bags somehow waiting like sleeping dogs on a stalled conveyor belt, no leery-eyed customs officer to poke in them as I wheel past, just the slick floor of the airport and a fast taxi. E called me every few minutes, asking how far away I was like she did when she was little. And then I am somehow back from an epic journey to the States and Mexico, zippers holding tough against the gifts inside the luggage. That smell at the back of V's neck, the first kiss with N, the jumping around, the wise-cracks, the cup of sweet black tea that grows cold somewhere on the floor as I pull the bags apart.

The living room looks like two Christmases have passed.

I slump into the couch and see that the trees outside are yellow, and an old wind is bending them hard. I feel different, maybe lighter, maybe more clear about what I must do now. But first I will slice into the cake N made that rests under a cloud of powered sugar. I will …

the year of the rabbit (is never over)

How to believe in shooting stars

nothing

panthers, crows and sparrows

red pen, red blanket

the only thing that matters is what is in the picture

the zoo

two steps back, one step forward

this is the city

pictures (some from the windows)

in-between (there is no name)

How to drink coffee

the chapter to finish

the idiots and the children

Finish all of your soup and then you can have spaghetti

tooth fairies and curly fries (the torture museum)

Wake up, no Katz's

the first day (a dress rehearsal)

best personal blogs
best personal blogs