May 10, 2015

Dark before morning, essaying the last chores before my flight.

Commencement yesterday was sweet. Wily covered himself with glory in his Commencement address, funny and profound. He referenced me, which shouldn’t have me as happy as it did. The mockingbirds called against the din of the loudspeakers. Party at Merritt’s later, a brawl of kids, which used not to be the custom. They are all about their families; we were, or pretended to be, all about the calling.

Travel jitters. That I shall ever actually Rome seems a remote unlikelihood.

First birds calling. I wouldn’t know how to react if, one time, I were not setting out alone.