I'd say, I'll take the surreal in a heartbeat, but that'd be a lie.

I thought I was okay, but I think that was just me getting back into my life here. I was too busy, too jet lagged to think. And now, all of a sudden, I think it's hitting me. I got lost on the way to the Lexus dealership to get an oil change for a car that's not mine. Back to my daily life, running errands for my parents, making phone calls for my parents, everything I'd become responsible for because it was just easier for me, than it was for them. I was stuck behind a Uhaul going 30 mph on 395, and for everything I love about driving, there's everything that frustrates me about traffic and this overpopulated metropolitan suburbia. The man behind the counter told me the Lexus hadn't seen maintenance in 2 and a half years. My parents hadn't bothered with it while I was gone, so on top of the oil change, there was a recommended 10,000 mile maintenance I had to sit through. On the car that isn't even mine. So I asked him where the nearest Starbucks was, and he asked, were you looking for a latte or something particular? Because we have cappuccinos and regular coffee right over there. Cappuccinos from self dispensing machines, and the thought hit a nerve I'd been numbing and I started breaking. I looked at him, and he pointed me to a bakery across the street. It was one of those homey bakeries, where bread and cookies are laid haphazardly across baskets along the counters. Biscotties and cannolies were on the menu, and my face must've said fuck my life because after ordering a coffee for $1.25 the guy offered me banana bread, they were free with the coffee, and then gave me a giant cookie, they were free for first timers. Banana bread with brown sugar, brown sugar left overs, left overs we'd used for our cookies two weeks ago, cookies me and carol devoured in the tv room.

And then, all I wanted was the life I'd been living. To be selfish again, as selfish as that is.

But here I am. In this world I always knew. In the waiting room of a Lexus dealership in Alexandria, a part of town I always hated driving through. With my cup of coffee, Seattle's Best, whatever that means, 4 sugars, hazlenut syrup, half and half, the epitome of Americana. I'm a week late, and life can't get any realer than this.


Keith Urban just shuffled on my iTunes and it reminds me of Sunday morning after notte bianca in the oltrano when I'd fallen asleep in our living room couch because the noise was too ridiculous to bear, and I'd woken up to this song coming out of Ally's bedroom. And I felt at peace for a bit there.