Summer Haikus

I don’t sleep well in the loft above the kitchen. The room is spotless and comfortable but bright in the morning.

I worried that seeing my mom in the hospital would be hard, and I was so, so right. I’m supposed to be a responsible adult, but I feel like a little kid.

The taxi pulls up outside of my grandparents’ house as the evening light slants into the window and blinds me.

I get on a plane to Japan by a sheer miracle. This was not a part of my plans!

Two weeks at home, and my daily routine has consisted of: sleep in late every day, go for a run, watch TV, pick Jackson, my little half-brother, up from daycare at three, watch him until everyone is home from work, read, hang out at Halley’s house (until she left on May twentieth), come home late. Oh, and checking my phone a hundred million times per day to see if Masa has texted me again.

I double-check my makeup in the mirror, making certain my eyes are no longer puffy and red. They’re fine.

The door to our room clicks open at the ungodly hour of nine the next morning. I don’t remember sleeping, but I must have been unconscious because Halley’s entrance scares the crap out of me.

I walk out onto the front lawn and take another deep breath. It’s a beautiful night in East Lansing.