Carol lives in New York. When she learns to drive, she will move away.
No one said before how strange this would be. Now everyone tells me, Strange is normal, usually smiling, excited for the future. But their strange is optimistic. Mine is neutral at best, teetering between awe and fear. It's strange to be alone then realize there is another, another heartbeat, an other here. Strange to be both I and we, to count as one or two as I or we please. Here we are, here I am: one waiting to be two. Does this, this connectedness, persist? Mother believes so. Our bond will weaken, she says, once you have your own.