I caught two sunsets.

This whole weekend, for the entire time, I hung out with real people. Karen made this incredible onion and fennel dish that I will copy shamelessly, except I think I’m going to serve it over polenta and maybe with some bitter greens. Then we went to the gathering and at three in the morning, when a few of us were all lying on each other’s stomachs and laps and talking quietly, I was completely centered and warm and known and accepted. The next day’s drive back to the East Bay wasn’t even long enough for me to tell Chris every last detail about Los Osos. My nephews were perfect in a sweet and cheerful way, instead of perfect in a tired and fussy way. For the baby’s first birthday, my sister’s friends built a bonfire and burned no fewer than twenty-three dried Christmas trees.

A childhood friend came over in the morning and we all played at the playground. Lunch was grilled cheese sandwiches; I need to make more of those. The train ride home was beautiful. Last night, a couple friends came over for dinner, and I didn’t even have to hassle with inviting them first. I love that.

The entire weekend, I didn’t care what strangers on the internets thought of me. Except for the ones who are actually my friends, I didn’t wonder what strangers were doing. I could have checked, but there was a naked little boy stealing my shoes and that was far more relevant. All of me was in the physical world, not bookmarking things to tell imaginary people about later. It felt like a vacation. I used to feel like that all the time.