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November 7, 2007
Seven eggs!? I’m cooking again with my nieces and nephew and they want to make a pound cake and top it with fresh peaches from their trees. I can feel my arteries hardening just reading the recipe.

A letter came with foreign stamps. My friend asked me, “Please go to visit my daughter and bring her the fabric that I gave you to carry.”

I had thought that my piece on him was ready to send to my editor, but not now. I somehow knew that the story was still being written and that I had become part of it.