Moving a car five years older than myself across the country in the middle of summer, but the heat never matters because I can smell the dryness of the desert and the moist air hanging over the fields and the dust storm that turns the air in Phoenix brown.

Forgetting time zone changes three different ways on that same trip, leaving me with two extra hours to linger at the VLA museum in the middle of nowhere on a perfect day.

Finding our neighbor’s cat dead, still slightly warm, in the street at 2am in Detroit. We carried him to their door, woke them up, and their cat, quite alive, ran past us from the kitchen. We buried his doppelganger in their yard together, laughing at my tears.