I'm talking on the phone making arrangements for carpooling, and he climbs onto my chest and lays down heavily.

There's something making me hesitate, balk, sadden as I'm packing. Leaving this sea and city and life for 6 days with people I hardly know anymore. I've alienated myself from them and their parties and their romances. I'm afraid I'll be sleeping under those Real Stars, homesick for the frogs and my wooden-framed snuggle bed. But I'll breathe in that air and fly in my thoughts.

But why am I not excited like years past? Something is going to happen. Just like I predicted the Change before, which resulted in moving out here to Heaven, I feel this high keening strain all around me. It's a little painful, and tears linger at the corners of my eyes.

I'll write out there on the swaying dock. I'll write until It happens. Oh god, let it be a good change.