I’m in the car with Ron, going to New Jersey with those of my most valuables that will shelter in place.
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 be 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,
Are you packed?
I said,
Having asked a few questions, Ron says no, I am not packed.
