We moved. Not to our permanent, life-long, forever home, but to a transitory space with some of our things in the town that we'll call "our town" up until the time our bodies are lowered down into the dirt to rest. So far, I've learned that "we don't go" to the one grocery store (out of two) in town because Auntie Betty was fired from there for no reason 15-20 years ago. My mom laughed; said that I'd better conjure up a disguise so I can go in there for whatever product I happen to want from there that isn't at the Co-Op without being discovered. Aside from getting violently ill for a night and a day with another day for recovery, I've been happy. Sure, the mom who invited me to meet at the pool showed up 45 minutes late just as we were leaving, but she apologized; I spent the entire time going up and down the water-slide anyway (not exactly visit-able) and I haven't had anyone suggest a play-date with me in Regina for probably a year--so I'll take it. I could do without the ticks, but Deep Woods OFF seems to work, so it's just a simple toss-up between cancer-causing agent and lyme disease. There's a cougar in the area, but no one seems to be too concerned about it. A tiny library exists just across the street from my mother-in-law's, the kind with the two steps down into the children's area and about five shelves of adult books available, but who cares about that when you can just order whatever book you want from any library in Saskatchewan anyway? I'm watching my driving. THUE is plastered on my back licence plate, a known and established name in these parts. Can't go making my reputation as the crazy passer, speeder, or one who doesn't stop at the four-ways. I almost chose the wrong MD, so I corrected that before the appointment. The sign that says "turn right" by the hospital is old, so you don't actually need to go the long way around; it's legal to turn left there. Co-Op's open till 6pm. Auntie Ruth works at the second-hand place on Wednesdays. Should sign up for swim lessons in mid-July. Cousin Melissa will be at the pool after 4pm most days with her son, Owen; that's Auntie Chris's daughter. I haven't been able to figure out what that one bird is by its call. Sounds owl-ish (Eden calls it an owl), but I think maybe it's some kind of dove.

It's bizarre I'll be here for the rest of my life, near this small town, kids at these schools, seeing those Moms for the next 18 years. I drove down the highway back from the farm and didn't meet one soul.