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There is so much. Yes, she's here. Yes, she's perfect. Yes, I'm exhausted. 

Somehow, there is no time. I don't know why I am so surprised. There are about ten thousand things that I have written, invisibly, so far. All of them lost, for now, into the recesses of my brain.

I will say this - I am newly, strangely, unexpectedly lonely. This is startling; I am no longer the easy creature of solitude I used to be. I miss my mother. I miss my friends. I am tired and bored of New Hampshire. I find myself seeking paved roads and placing to buy things. This is unexpected, too. Hurried as I was to leave the city. To live in the country.

This is the country. I'm trying. 

But there is too much, so much, to get out first. But not now. Some other time. Soon.