Heading home

I am so fucking tired. Like deeply,emotionally tired. The kind of tired sleep only gives you a break from but doesn't ameliorate. Tired suffused with sadness and being strong. Tired derived from saying goodbye to Nanny and her home, a home that felt like my own. Mom, Jack and I went over there this morning. It was quiet and empty, and Nanny's smile couldn't greet me. I looked through all her pots and pans, bakers and utensils. While holding each, I remembered with such clarity what Nanny made in each: the oval roaster in which she cooked briskets and roasts; the rounded corner pan in which she made her lemon-lime refrigerator sheet cake; angel food and muffin tins; mixing bowls; ancient tin forks and spoons. Here's the Saltines box I mentioned recently. I'm secretly hoping no one else wants it, because I'd love to have it for my own.

When we got home to finish packing up, I realized I couldn't find my wedding rings. Ten minutes into what seemed like a fruitless search, I realized I was sobbing; the thought of losing something else so special tipped me over the wall of strength I've stood on this past week, and I just couldn't deal with anything else. I combed through last night's shrimp shells (not lovely), all the garbage cans and on and on. Mom finally found them on a windowsill. Now I'm even more tired. And I can't fathom these plane rides home. Send me some good vibes, friends.