this day feels like two weeks, and there's still 3 minutes left. It seems like eons since I rode around Philadelphia killing time before my flight. Now I'm sitting on the bed of a Hampton Inn a bit north of Birmingham. Teresa, a nurse at the hospital, called me at 5 am in my hotel room at Princeton years and years ago to tell me that my mother died.

more later. i've no more words, or even tears, I think, left in me now.