Summer, summer...

I spent most of this summer wrapped in the sheets I slept on as a teenager. I drove our family’s last Volvo between my house and someplace new: my father’s.

I watched as my parents tried to navigate their first summer apart in 40 years. I watched as they fell back toward each other. I shook my head, I smiled, I said they never give up.

I put together a baby seat for my niece. I helped my sister ready the room for her baby, due in a few days.

I drove home and thought back on the summer, which seemed to go by in a flash. It always does. One day I was in the hospital, the other I was dunking lobster tails in Maine. At different points I was home in California and New Jersey; I was home in Brooklyn and Indiana.

I once thought I wanted to live everywhere. I thought I could take root wherever I wanted. But I also guessed I thought I’d grow out of this phase by now. That I’d crave a lease and permanent marker on an office door.

But I’m not; I do not crave anything at all.

I am finding ways to be everywhere. I am surrounded by love and that roots me; that keeps me still.