Because time stretches, it seems I have been here almost forever. But it’s not that I don’t always, at the back of my mind, have a vision of being done this work, and getting out of here. It’s not that I don’t know it’s Nana day today and I have a date with my granddaughter and the library that I won’t be making. It’s not that I don’t realize that my grandson is learning to crawl without me there to watch—or even hear about. It’s not that I don’t long to escape to a three-generation Saturday brunch or Sunday dinner, the seats around the table all filled and the easy conversation only rarely running to novel-writing. It’s not that I don’t miss my children nor long for my loving partner—without whom I surely could not be here, merely writing—and the familiar (and family-ar) routines of our lives: How was your day, my loves? How was your day?
Telegrams with a limited number of words, sent slower and cheaper than a regular telegram.