Nathan called me on his way to the hospital. He was in a gnarly crash apparently, out on his speedboard in the gathering dark. His friends had loaded him onto the mini-bus, were driving him to Nanaimo General. His voice sounded small and far away, and I felt pity and uncertainty... but I knew that my being there wouldn't have made him not crash. Wouldn't have made things better.

I feel strange here in Kaleden. Like-- I haven't found my space yet. Certainly it must be strange for mom and dad too... no kids at home since Sandy graduated in 2000. And in those intervening years, we've all changed, developed new habits. I'm softer (I hope) towards my mother, kinder, (occasionally teasingly cheekier) and better-humoured in general. Dad has a sense of humour that I never fathomed as a child, and can appreciate now. Mom and dad each have a TV-- one upstairs and one downstairs, so they can each watch their own shows. This strikes me as kind of sad.

I wander around the house, like an elderly dog, looking for something I can't remember. Looking for something to do, a way to be myself in the presence of the people who have defined me for so much of my life. I cleaned mom's kitchen this evening, sewed buttons on my new cheap pink dress.

I'm thinking. A lot. But I think-- the thing that will be best for me is less thinking, and more doing.