xxi

“Sunrise, sunset.”

-Fiddler on the Roof

            I missed the sunset on the lake. I missed the sunset on the lake on purpose, heavy automatic curtains closed over the screen glass doors of the condo.

            The room was quiet, lake-water still making its way through the grooves in the carpet and I just sat there on the denim couch, feeling the slow dim of the light outside, waiting for my brothers to come back from outside, waiting for the text to come, waiting to be back home for two more weeks of sameness before I leave for the BIGCOLLEGETOWN.

            Today we went to the small downtown that the city boasted, unpaved streets crammed with the generic antiques and healing waters of small-town superstitions, trying to find our way back to the rental car in hundred-degree heat, the fire of Tatooine's twin suns bearing down on the casual water-bottle walk.

            Missing the sunrise wasn’t a big deal because, no matter where I end up going: the BIGCOLLEGETOWN or my tree-lined street, it’ll always be the same.