In my spam folder everything is either SOLD OUT or NEW THIS SEASON. I recognize that these phrases are supposed to make me want things through some artful mix of novelty, popularity, and scarcity. But they’ve got the wrong lady. And it’s not just because the ads are selling confusing sexual products for male penises and het intercourse! I’m about to move in pursuit of comfort and abundance, in pursuit of indefinite time with my people, in pursuit of folks who seem to have a lot left, in pursuit of (incomplete sentence).

But it’s the crest of departure and, of course, novelty, popularity, and scarcity must make an appearance. I’m wary of this cloud around leaving which might make things seem better than they are. (Not because I have been directly susceptible to this phenomenon– but because others have ensured my indirect susceptibility. Departure, for me, spoils and terrifies. But I worry about other people attaching to me unfairly, momentarily. I get that my solution perpetuates the problem but I try to compensate by: speeding through the getting-to-know you so that we can all walk away with clear impressions and good decisions.) Ha! At least this time it’s different: we’re all young, old, responsible, and unencumbered. Everyone has feelings and at least two of us have patience.

J: who has returned in times of change
J: who has, regrettably, not
S: who did not respond to an emailed photograph of my graduation, my eyes bugging out ever more like ___
S: who responded to each photo and some more than others
C: who wants to see me more before I go
C: who cannot
P: It feels like it’s been years and years and years and years and years even though it has only been year and year and year and year and year
P: in the same amount of time, it has been so much longer
R: please forgive all the twinning. I, for one, do not have a double any more than you do.

The other day, M and C were driving me to Harvard Square with unwieldy boxes. I hadn’t left my apartment all day and the air seemed wrong. M said it was haze. C said it was haze. It was just a thick mist and when I walked outside I thought there might be a fire nearby. M has been a beloved champion of reality for almost two years. She is the best gauge a sister could have. They promised me that Central Square had the haze as well. They promised me it was everywhere. M initially thought EVERYONE was bbq-ing. The next day we learned that it wasn’t haze but the smoke pouring in from catastrophic fires in Quebec:

R: Every time I think of history, it’s like this. Before the air was clear…

Actually, M and C learned about the fires on the day of the haze. But then M told me, at work. I am afraid that this is what it will continue to be like. I wanted to know what we were inhaling but did not look it up.