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<p>Nineteen years ago, I woke up in my girlfriend’s dorm room on third avenue in Manhattan. As we were leaving the the building — sometime around nine — we noticed a crowd gathered around the security desk. We pushed forward — New Yorkers are good when it comes to finding space where there isn’t any [&hellip;]</p>

<p>The Brain Garden started today. It was my son’s first day of fifth grade and we spent it at our favorite place — the beach. Seriously, what better classroom in all the world is there. It was quiet and peaceful and outdoors, so much better than a room with walls and bells. We kept our [&hellip;]</p>

<p>My heart can’t take anymore. This morning my spouse drove out to Long Island so that Mom could make another attempt to sell Dad’s car back to the Toyota dealership. While we were busy inside chatting with one of the Toyota guys, my son went missing. We couldn’t find him anywhere in the building, but [&hellip;]</p>

<p>I hardly slept last night. I drifted in and out of sleep, but I did manage to have two dreams, both of which I remember vividly. In the first dream, I was sitting on the floor of my room in Queens and I was crying hysterically. And then Dad walked in, but it was Dad [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Damn — 140 days since Dad died. 20 weeks, today. The time just keeps adding up. Mom has decided she is definitely selling the Mattituck house. I spent much of the day crying. There are so many memories here. It feels as if Dad is dying again. This was his house. The one he loved [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Last night, Dad appeared in my dream. It was the first day of school, the first morning of homeschooling my son. He and I sat down at a table in a room I didn’t recognize. It was yellow, the table was oval, and the seats were off-white swivel chairs. I sat across from my son [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Years ago, when I was in my mid-twenties, I decided I wanted to go back to school to study photography. What I wanted in life was to travel the world and take pictures. I applied to a school out in California, I was accepted, and at the end of the summer I planned to drive [&hellip;]</p>

<p>If you mentioned Kenosha a month ago, I would have had to look it up on a map. I had never heard of it. If you asked me about it last week, I’d have said, “Oh yeah, that’s where we ate fried cheese curds for lunch and picked up some cheese bread to toast over [&hellip;]</p>

<p>When we were on vacation, driving through southern Ohio, we stopped at a convenience store. I needed to pee. My son and spouse needed snacks for the car. While my son and I were browsing the shelves, a cop walked passed us. Despite the sign on the door that said face coverings were mandatory, the [&hellip;]</p>

<p>It has been a mentally and emotionally tiring day. I am back in Queens with Mom. I was not a good daughter in staying away for so long. I had left with the intention of being gone for no more than three and a half weeks, but the extension of our road trip meant that [&hellip;]</p>

<p>I want to call Dad and tell him about our road trip. He’d want to hear about it. He’d want to know about all the swimming we did, the National Parks we visited, the presidents we learned about. He’d want hear about our frustrations with people not taking the virus seriously and the fact that [&hellip;]</p>

<p>We are home. Tomorrow it will be 130 days since Dad died. Getting home and not being able to call him made arriving home even sadder.</p>

<p>We just packed up our tent for the final time this trip. I am not ready to go home.</p>

<p>This first thing I used to do when I got home from a trip was call Dad. I’d tell him I was safe and then we’d talk about the trip. The absence of that call is what I dread most about going home.</p>

<p>In Northwestern Indiana people are terrible about wearing masks. It scars me how they appear not to take the virus seriously.</p>

<p>Last night during the Democratic National Conversation a memorial tribute to Covid victims aired. I had sent in Dad’s picture to be included but he wasn’t. Do you have any idea how shitty that felt? It hurts when my writing gets rejected. But to have Dad rejected from a tribute really gutted me. Why wasn’t [&hellip;]</p>

<p>It rained all night. There is nothing like packing up a saturated tent.</p>

<p>We are back to Lake Michigan. It is still colder than Superior but not as cold as it was in Michigan. We are definitely still in Trump territory. There are so many Trump signs in rural Wisconsin, I don’t see how Biden could have a chance here. With 170,000 dead, I don’t understand how anyone [&hellip;]</p>

<p>We are sad to be leaving Lake Superior. We very much enjoyed it. We are also sad to be turning our car toward home.</p>

<p>We had a great day on Lake Superior kayaking and swimming.</p>