Today’s format is one I discovered last year from Fran McVeigh.
Since last March I’ve been to Utah.
Utah, where my son thinks all the supercars live,
Utah, where we hike the most unlikely landscapes,
Utah, which I tell myself I shouldn’t love (I love trees, water, gentle vistas, humidity),
Utah, where I feel oddly home and free.
Since last March, I turned 46.
46 and can’t ever recall if I’m 45 or 48. 47?
46 and all the slowdowns and breakdowns of middle age that I was convinced only happened to other people are happening to me
46, a good even number, even if I can’t remember it,
46, until July.
Since last March, I’ve said goodbye.
Goodbye to Xander, kind-hearted cat with the grating meow, slothlike sleeper, warm pillow for kittens, so in love with love,
Goodbye to Roxy, hardest goodbye of all,
Goodbye to Roxy, sensitive soul, cat lover, Velcro dog, constant companion for fourteen years,
Goodbye Roxy.
Since last March, I’ve said hello.
Hello to Oliver, ginger #fosterfail, quick to play, quicker to purr, quickest to turn pencil tail to giant raccoon puff and zoom after invisible prey,
Hello to more travel, more projects, more friendships, more responsibilities,
Hello to more new books than I can count (or read!),
Hello to more calm, more peace, more yes.
the dirigible plum 
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