She said,

Are you packed?

I said,

I’m in the car with Ron, going to New Jersey with those of my most valuables that will shelter in place.

Having asked a few questions, he says no, I am not packed.

Soon I will go to the airport, and I will check in with one hopes little trouble — Dad called for a second time to tell me that probably it will be a problem that my ticket is missing the middle name on my passport — and then we — me and everyone else moving to Denmark — will get on the plane and, with luck, sleep all the way to the new day.

She said,

I have deep feelings of envy and pride for what you are doing

I said,

When will things feel normal again?

She said,

This is the new normal isn’t it.

I said,

It feels bad right now.

She said,

Oh well it will only feel like this for a very very short time, like less time than a transatlantic flight.

I said,

I didn’t do the dishes or make the beds or hang all the things on the wall so that it’s nice for the subletter.

She said,

Don’t forget to let all of it feel real good too.

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