Dear Diary,

Prologue to the next four days.

I flew to St. Louis. My sisters picked me up at the airport.




Apparently I talk a lot, but when you haven't seen people in years, I don't know how you can avoid saying anything. Also, without words, I get bored, and I can't read in a car.

We stopped at the hotel so I could hang my suit. I do not like having to wear a suit. I like to want to wear a suit. I wanted to show up tomorrow in jeans with holes the size of Phoenix at the knees and a t-shirt two sizes too big. I wanted to dress like a worn piece of furniture. That's how I felt; it was more appropriate. A suit? I dreaded the depressing family reunion, draped in formality.

We drove to DeSoto. I hadn't been there since my visit to my Grandpa years ago with the children. Grandpa was staying at an apartment instead of in his house, which he gave to his stepson. Though it was filled with things I remembered, it was not Grandpa's house. It was a storage space. I didn't mind working through the gloomy atmosphere to help pack.

Plans for tomorrow are to wake, pack more house stuff, change, stand for hours and shake hands.