three things.

My house is a farkin’ mess. I can’t clean it. It’s full of boxes and packed and soon-to-be-packed items. We’re leaving in eight days.

My husband is downstairs playing “Yellow Ledbetter” by Pearl Jam. What he can’t know is that this song will always and inexorably take me back to the summer after my senior year in high school.

This morning after a more-than-usual hectic routine – where I was hounding my children for not getting dressed fast enough, not eating their breakfasts properly – Sophie looked up at me as I distractedly buttoned her coat and tearfully said, “Mama, you’re giving me and Nels the balls.”

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