Now that we're all home, it's beginning to catch up with me.
Here is life as it will be.
It's been a little over a month.
It's happening just as I thought it might.
I'm doing the dishes at 4a.m.
And these little bursts of weeping come out of my face.
And I'm not even enjoying the release, because I'm too tired.
So it stops just as soon as it began.
What I'm saying is,
I feel like I got shot through a worm hole ten months ago.
Life is all about the stories you tell.
There's never just one story.
And lately, now that I'm no longer in the middle of getting through it, I'm seeing all these versions of my life.
Like little movies projected all over the walls of my apartment.
I don't know which one I'm living anymore.
I mean, I'm living all of them, but which one will I retell?

Today I watched the sky turn lavender and this is what I could hear:
Coffee percolating in the kitchen.
Folk music.
A restless baby.*