i will be in arizona in three days. i will be kissing harper at the airport and making him wear suits.

i will pack this but not that and i will wrap this with bubble wrap that is nearly deflated and i will shove this at the bottom of the suitcase. i'll say goodbye to Archemides, my fish. i will hold my cat for a long time and explain these teenage nights that mean more to me than the rest of the world.

harper will be wrapping around me in a few days. we will be homesick for weeks. i will cry and not unpack. i'll listen to the radio and try to find 80's music and when i do, i will slam my head into the wall remembering my sisters and swingsets and mudpies and hiding in the woods and my grandparents and the dusty lamps i've left behind.

dear harper,

michael will find us. they will find us and when they do, you will promise me you wont offer them the good silverware.

love,