She managed to barter 1 crunchy chippy thing she bought in Montreal for 1 red delicious apple, sit beside 2 girls for 3 hours who were rewriting Abba lyrics en Francais et avec chagrin, make all 2 of her connections, read 193 pages, edit 19 pages of writing, and sleep for an undisclosed number of minutes, probably mouth agape since she largely had an aisle seat. That's today's math.
The other stuff that isn't so easily quantifiable, and so you may choose to argue with me: she is certain the molecules of her body feel different when she crosses the border and an at-homeness takes over her. She loves seeing Canadian license plates, funny money, 401 signage. She loves hearing French, and practicing her own.
Best of all, she loves her family. She gets to spend a couple of days with her parents doing the usual sort of things: drinking tea, crossword puzzling, country driving, bargain hunting, and, best of all, catching up. And at the end of it all, she gets to see her brother, in his neck of the woods, and she's never made it down before.
She thinks of all the houses she's lived in (at least 11), and misses Hulk and The Hub, grateful that more than one place feels like home.
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Hulk sits, too. Right now he sits in the classroom where he and Baby met last summer. Later he will sit on his bike. Tomorrow he will sit in the car on the way to race, reflecting on how grateful he is for Baby's wonderfulness and the profound privilege they both experience of being able to pursue dreams and happy, big ideas and each other.
-n
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