There are days that slip by almost unnoticed in the rush of too much to do. There are days that are marked with important events. The month of July disappeared in a flurry of making plans, getting packed, seeing friends, getting caught up, riding the coming home roller coaster… I spent far too much time with a suitcase and an empty bed. There were not enough tv programs to keep me from knocking around in the shadowy corners of my own head.
It’s funny to look down and watch her hands type this letter to you. And it is strange to see myself in the mirror and find myself longing to touch the reflection of my own bare lips. Flashes of recognition strike me – she was my age when I born; at my age she had not graduated nursing school yet. My children will never meet her. When my stomach hurts I cannot call her. My stomach hurts.