The alarm rings at dawn but you are already awake, already a step ahead and one foot out the door. Your driver is Palestinian, you commiserate over choosing this country but his sons are both about to be doctors, what regret could he have. I go back there now and I don't think I could live there anymore, he says, and you rummage through your own calculations to see if the answers line up.
It's April now, the trees in New Jersey begin to bloom, and even though the Rocky Mountains are snowy and cold, you see it in the sunlight, it's happening here, too. A road trip awaits, a new horizon awaits, this week I lost a job and I haven't had it in me to be sad about it yet.
It's spring now, my darling.
In spring we are not sad.
We run.
