Confession

I'm sitting up in my bedroom, with a throbbing migraine, three days in the making. Maybe that's the reason for the tears. No, not really. But I'll blame it on the migraine.
Last night as Chard and I drove up the street I saw a sight I thought I'd never see here on Yale Avenue: the S's signature green suburban, face-forward in the driveway, a U-hall hitched to the back and ready to go. No, T and L aren't moving. R is. R and A. And, as happy as I am to see them off to a new future, I guess the tears don't lie. I'm sad.