The highlight of the weekend was probably Saturday night: sitting commando in the conference room adjacent to my dad�s office in old (old) ripped jeans, a t-shirt , sweatshirt, judge�s robe, and blanket (it was cold) studying for my Psychology of Perception exam while he tapped away in the other room completing enough work to be ready to leave for a conference on Sunday. Sometimes I would pop into the office � we untangled cords and talked about quotable supreme court Justices, my friend Greg who is in law school, and, implicitly, how I�ll do just fine for myself when and if law school time comes around.

The really important parts were: the reminder that my father was never a perfect student � ever � but is the person happiest with and most respected his or her job that I know in this world. The reincarnation of Meg-and-Daddy late night puttering � an unintentional tradition created by both of our bad habits and nocturnal natures years ago. The reinforcement that things at home can still be good and normal and natural without feeling forced or like regressions or as if there are multiple elephants in every room.

There are things from which I was not sure I would ever recover � the worst summer of my life being one, the only true breakup of my life being another. It seems trite to compare the two, but they�re inexorably linked in my mind: linked to stagnation and death, terror, and helplessness and myriad other trite emotions all of which center in on Roanoke.

Here�s where the breakup analogy helps: for a while, I didn�t know what to do with the things I still liked that were born of or enveloped by the relationship. What to do with Cannibal: The Musical and Mario and Wildlife? At first I rejected them, then I was able to incorporate them into my being in Charlottesville then, eventually, into my being back in Roanoke too.

I have, in essence, been figuring out how to re-incorporate my family into my being when I�m back in Roanoke. Sometimes I�m still angry, or confused, or touchy � but I no longer feel the need to tiptoe. I�m re-claiming Roanoke as a place I can belong.

This entry isn�t very good and I have an exam in t-minus 9.5 hours, for which I am not ready. Furthermore, I have a killer cold. Corelyn and I spent an obscene amount of money at the grocery store on: soup, Gatorade and juice, and cold medicine. We are the apartment of invalids.


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