handle with care

Little Rat finds a flashlight and walks me to my small house on dark nights when there is no moon. Brothers have to take care of sisters he says, and then pats me on the back real hard and fast and calls me "Kathy" because he knows both those things drive me up the wall.

I tell myself and others that I am just fine but my body is registering high anxiety on a cellular level. Isn't it funny how something intangible, existing only in the air and moments between us, can affect you right down to the marrow, literally. I've developed a twitch. I can't sleep.

There was a package waiting for me yesterday--filled with good things from G. who is exquisite, impeccable. The best part was Jenny Lewis's cover of Handle with Care. I suggest you listen to this song if you're not already humming it to yourself while waiting for the elevator.

4 boys have asked me to the 8th grade dance. They are tall and short, shy and funny, 2 B's, a C and a D. If only I could find the perfect dress.

Norman the cow stood in the rain and bellowed all night. This morning the hair on his flat head stood straight up like a mowhawk. On my way to school I rolled down the window and reminded him that it's going to be okay.

All the irises are open. The whole world is purple and green and delicate.