I’m lying there in my bed listening to P.J. softly breathing, and Gertie not-so-softly snoring, and there’s a crushing feeling, a sort of pressing, on my chest and neck. It comes from nowhere. I mean in the sense that when it starts I’m not having consciously anxious thoughts.About, for instance, moving out. The nights ahead of me during which I will not be kept awake by Gertie’s snores. The days of not having to do five thousand dishes. How my clothes won’t smell like Francis spit-up.How I won’t be taking my familiar bus to Galileo come fall, or seeing Zoe waiting for me there in the courtyard.How, considering I’m only going across the Bay, my life is about to change in more ways than I can imagine.Leaving home for freshman year was never my plan. I thought I’d take care of some gen-eds at State and live with my parents and save money. The scholarship came into the picture so suddenly and now everything is…I get out of bed because I actually feel like I might let out a little scream and I don’t want to scare the kids.
