highway 99

Last week, on an errand, Alice and I drove past the hospital where she was born.

“Oh, that’s right. There it is,” I thought.

It’s out of the way. We are not in the area very often.

It was just after dinner when we left that night, but since it was winter, dark already.

My eyes were closed most of the way. There was a football game on the radio and David “sorry, sorry-ing” over all the ruts in the road.

It seems like something that might have happened, but couldn’t have, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Because if that’s where she first was anywhere – there, right there – then what about everything else before it?

How quickly memory tricks you into believing this is how it has always been.

Alice is very serious about climbing these days.

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