I'm at my sister's house, spending several hours each day sorting through my boxes of stuff, ruthlessly tossing out things that, only six months ago, I insisted on holding on to for sentimental reasons.
Besides, do I really need to have proof that I was on my ninth grade Geometry team or that I drew a picture with red objects on it in eight grade?
My niece only eats a few bites of anything I make for her and insists that she's full. But then I buy three pounds of watermelon and I barely manage to save a piece for my sister while watching in awe as Baby inhales the rest of it.
Baby and I practice spelling words on the fridge. We practice our tap shuffles in the entrance of the grocery store. We practice our ballet positions next to her mother's bed before we call it a night.
Baby's angry when she's tired. My mom has a sore on her leg that makes me worry. And I'm pretty sure the cat (Riley) hates me but is willing to be bribed by food.
This isn't really me facing a new future away from Cville. It's me just checking in.
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