A red backpack that’s gone out west once before, though not so far.
Anxiety that is a ghost haunting the excitement of this trip, and there’s no delight in that except to think that maybe at some immortal height above the earth, she’ll be close enough to Heaven to shake free, and we will both be light at last, able to let each other go and journey on.
I promise I’ll send a postcard if you will.
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