arizona.

last night. we're in a resort in Phoenix; one last blowout for the kids before we head home tomorrow. we've been caravaning with clay; two priuses heading across Texas, tailing each other. it's been good for us to trade off and spend time in his car. not sure if its been good for him.

there is imminent danger of meltdowns from all of us, me especially. today i whacked the crap out of the side of my head, hitting it hard on the car door, and i broke into tears so fast i even shocked selkie, who is sorta good at that kind of reaction. shit, it hurt. but then it just turned into a massive breakdown about heading home, getting back to our real life, all of the work i have to do, feeling unprepared for the next couple of weeks...all of it, from a simple, clumsy smack on the door frame.

a couple of nights ago i dreamed that it was the first day of school. all of my new kindergarteners were there, as were there parents, and i tried to find the book that i had picked out to read to them. there were shelves and shelves of books all around me, and i kept seeing books that i wanted to buy this summer but didn't, and as i frantically searched for THE book the shelves got closer and closer to me. i kept saying, "okay, we're going to start in one more minute"--my voice getting more and more hysterical--and as i looked behind me i saw the parents setting up a band, sort of good-naturedly taking over the fact that i was ill-prepared. panic set in.

i woke up with my heart hitting my rib cage, sweat everywhere. 

nightmare, as experienced by teacher.

i know everything will be okay. it is okay. life is happening, bills will be paid or not paid, children will go to school unhappily or happily, my body will adjust to van nuys, my heart will go on.  i really should just shut up.  

anxiety gets me nowhere, and makes me really ugly -- and not just because i get stressed-induced cold sores. i like myself a lot better when i am taking things one moment at a time.

so, tomorrow, to home. to dogs who adore us and a cat that disdains us. to our neighbors who know us as the crazy people. to Selkie's imaginary friends. to Milo's unhappiness at not living in Massachusetts. to my big, beautiful kitchen. to dear friends who await us. we are coming home.

if we can just find Idaho. it's our last license plate that we need, and then we are complete.

make a list. cross it off. move on.

(Hotel home. Detritus path.)