California Born and Bred

N is in Boston for a week with his beloved Uncle Stevie. He's breaking my heart with the bedtime homesickness phone calls, but that's beside the point. He's having a good time, even if he refuses to admit it when he's feeling sad.

Earlier, Steve emailed me to say that while they were out and about a bit, N overheard his first conversation between two true Bostonites. He listened for a while, Steve said, and then looked up at his uncle and asked, "Can those people understand English, too?"

I haven't stopped laughing yet.

Back To Life (Mine)

I am having panic attack upon panic attack upon...you guessed it...panic attack these past couple of days, but it doesn't matter. I'm home. I couldn't be happier.

The past week couldn't have turned out any better. Not a single one of my worst-case scenarios came true. I spent time with family--both relatives I hadn't seen in years, and relatives I see whenever I can but still don't see enough of--and enjoyed every second of it. Still, today, after trudging down the hill to the local supermarket, running into one of Em's friends' moms and chatting for a couple of seconds, getting my usual Starbucks iced coffee for the climb back up the hill, having no fewer than three cars driven by people I know honk at me in greeting while doing that climb, then spending 50 cents to get a cup of fresh lemonade from the kids on my block...I was positively joyful. This is my life. Mine. There are pressures and stresses galore, and by tomorrow I'm likely to be thigh-deep in my habitual blackness, but for now, I can't see past the lovely feeling of fitting in, of being where I belong.

My life. It's ridiculously good to be back to it.