29 North

I was driving home today on the endless stretch of road between Amherst and Cville, contemplating the thunderclouds in my peripheral vision. Worrying about the return of Summer 96 and Spring 01, I was silently composing an email to Rusty, needing to see a shit-eating grin on his face and hear his no-holds-barred words to return me to the present. I was cursing all the happy songs on the radio, more in the mood for angry NIN when suddenly a little voice was in my ear: "Mommy, don't you think it's a beautiful day?"

"Yeah, Liv, I guess it really is."

I wish you didn't have to turn 4...