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De File
Does Collecting Make You Feel Dirty?
Six and Eight
Six years ago at this time I was trying to get comfortable on a reclining chair in Walnut Creek's John Muir hospital, while Skylar slept right on top of her mom, face down because we didn't know that was against the rules. I was overjoyed and deeply uncomfortable. But it was worth having my back go out. I'd wake up every few minutes and lean over to check on Skylar's breathing. Even then, her presence warped the space in our room.

Eight years ago at this time we were finishing up our last goodbyes, handing out extra chocolate crumb pies from Bolinas Bakery to our departing guests. My father was still basking in the warm glow of the Yankees' victory over the Braves. He and my mother, Kim's parents, and Russ and Joe were helping to clean up, our three families united as never before or since. Then we bid them farewell too and drove over to Bolinas to hang out a bit with Josh, Laura, Joel and Christina before beginning the long drive to our SFO hotel. We were through. On the drive out of Stinson Beach, we put on the wedding soundtrack and pulled to the side of the road, right on the cliff's edge, to hear Cat Stevens' "Miles From Nowhere". Kim cried. So did I.

Mode: torus
Muse: crickets etc.

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