We're packing our bags and heading out.
Getting ready to soar cross country, leaving California in the dark of early morning to land in Connecticut in the quiet of early night.
This means we're eating leftovers like it's our job. And lamenting the fact that I had to buy milk this morning.
It also means that in 36 hours I'll be eating in my ma's kitchen, sitting around that table I spent the better part of two decades at, now with my husband and my kid.
It's the kind of stuff that's good. Crazy good. Toddler-with-a-cupcake good.
What could be better?
Sweet.
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