Last night, we stayed up until two, drinking wine, telling stories, laughing.
Someone played songs on the guitar. I wanted to stay here, keep going, keep
writing, but a poem I was working on needed help with an image, so I called my
husband in Pennsylvania, asked him to describe for me what was in the air between
my cell phone and his. I was expecting to hear a long line of science, a string of
jargon, something involving frequencies. When he answered, the distance
I knew in my heart it was time to come home.