Back to America
My computer clock says that it is 12:46 PM. The oven clock in my mother's kitchen says 5:46. The oven clock does not distinguish between AM or PM, but there is a sunrise. You would know it as a sunrise because it is optimistic. It treads lightly. It has none of the beautiful bad decisions of sunset. It peeps. It does not burn.
Fitting, I think, to begin this now, in the Chicago suburbs. This is the reasonable decision. We lived in Europe. We lived in New York. But now the babies win. Babies don't care about your charming lifestyle. Soon we will be installed in the city and we will sleep past five and we will walk again and we will shop and we will start to build.
In the meantime, I will be here with thoughts and news. Check in.