Bubonic Plague?

My friend of almost 20 years told me recently she had fallen ill. There’s a particularly virulent and severe strain of flu going on this year, and she came down with fever, chills, and a horrible headache. A doctor apparently thought it was not the flu, but rather a common cold, and two days later she told me she also had diarrhea and vomiting, followed by pus oozing out of her eyes, which would make it pretty much the worst fucking cold in the history of existence. And then, shortly thereafter:

I asked her if she had come down with the bubonic plague. I was half kidding, though there was definitely a case of it in Yosemite just a week after we left, a couple of years back. Despite the diarrhea, vomiting, oozing pus, and minor loss of bowel control, she insisted she was feeling “really good” compared to earlier.

Almost as good as the time she threatened to kill me, in writing, in the Spring of 1998 when we first met. Almost.

When He’s Away

Earlier today, Husband left on a work trip to New York City for a few days, and it’s the first time he’ll be away overnight since Little V was born. We will both miss him.

When my husband is gone, there’s no one to make sureĀ all the balcony sliding doors are closed and all the “rape doors” are locked.

The house is quiet and I notice sounds I don’t pay attention to when he’s here, like the sudden, unfamiliar hum of the neighbor’s air conditioning unit.

There’s no one to share a small bowl of cereal with before going to sleep, the bed feels too big, and the air seems cooler than usual.

I almost want to close the french doors in our bedroom because the lovely breeze that creeps in at night when he’s here feels like a lonely breath when he is gone.

We miss him already.