grammu’s back next to cub, where she belongs. it was, well, it was and now it’s over. i can’t remember the last time i’ve been this exhausted. perhaps when alan died. there’s so much still to say, and all i can think of is sleep. i want to sleep for a long, long time.

uncle george was rushed into emergency surgery this morning. they put two shunts in his heart. he’s resting now, and that’s all i know.

the poem was a smashing success and my sisters read it wonderfully. i sat in the pew sobbing while they read. never has something i written got such praise, sadly i don’t care for it much.

i’m so tired.