Spring has broken outside. My windows are flung wide for the first time in months. The sun is streaming through the dust, unsettled by having hauled all of my belongings out in the open. In just a few days, I'll leave this apartment on the Upper West Side, and move in with Abbi at 56th and Tenth.
Today, then, I am sifting through old notebooks, tapes, and photos. Which is how I came across this one. I am sitting in Westwind, the small cottage my mother rented on Madaket, just a few minutes before walking across the dune to meet Mister Rogers.
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