24 hours

I used to be so good at giving myself a pause. But now the night rushes up on me.

I woke up this morning first with something very important to say, half apology, half explanation. The words were clear and strong in my mouth but I couldn't get them out.

The next hour I woke from a dream where I had been bitten by someone's pet rat. I didn't know it was a pet until it was killed--and only then, Arturo, the kitchen manager at Tartine had to tell me. When I stirred from this dream I was alone in my bed, my cat was asleep with her little face on the palm of my hand.

Now the words that were in my mouth are jumbled again.