A calm day, after several nights of erratic sleep (insomnia is strange for me – usually even under stress I sleep more): went in for a meeting and office holiday luncheon, got a haircut, did errands. The house is quiet and clean, and smells good: candles in the living room, panettone in the kitchen.
***
Sandy's message to me on my birthday, seven days before she died:
"hippo birdies to you!"
[A Sandra Boynton quote.]
"I hope you found something fun to do and good people with whom to have that fun. Send a pic or two! L. & I thought about calling last night, but since we couldn't figure out what time it was for you, I hope you'll realize it was a public service that we didn't call at 3 am or whatever time it really was for you. Anyway, happy birthday, and many more. I hope this will be the year that, if you still want to go back to CA, you'll make progress getting there, and that you'll write that book. love, s"
At the time, I thought: hmm, odd that she would say all that. Of course, if she was thinking the way we now believe she was thinking, it was basically a last message... somewhat like when Reid, on his deathbed in 1983, told me: stop screwing around in San Francisco, and go away somewhere to graduate school.
Last instructions....
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