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  • Writer's pictureRachelle Jervis

Day 147

Updated: Jun 26, 2019

The TSA screener negged me by saying, “You look exactly like your driver’s license photo.” That’s a cut that lingered until take-off.

Upon arrival, I open my suitcases. Melodi the dog sniff my snacks and then my pill organizer. “If you eat my antidepressants we’ll all be sad.” I’d like to think if she spoke snarky she’d have laughed.


Telecommuting is a wonderful invention. I worked from Laguna Beach. It was like living in a 90s screensaver. For those who are too young to know what a screensaver is, dial up your model and Netscape it.


In Chicago, I never put sunblock on my legs no matter how long I’d be at the beach or waterpark with Constance. I never needed it. Two hours into attempting the same sunblock protocol in Cali and my legs are lobster red—aka the tourist tan.


Constance never visited California. I imagine she’d enjoy the opportunities to swim.


Like so many parents, when Constance was born, I wanted the world for her. My most important job was her care, her protection, her survival. Now there is just absence. My job is my job and when I’m not doing that time seems to slip by.


I have plenty of friends I should be taking this opportunity to visit. Instead, I’m focusing my free time on bonding with Medodi. She is an adorable Shih Tzu. We have a lot in common: we both dislike hot pavement, strange intruders, and slow food service. She makes me miss Otis, in a good way.

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