At this moment I’m blogging from my bed at our house in Massachusetts, about eight miles from Boston. This is not where I choose to be, but worry about the health of my family drove me here. My mother fractured her hip and right wrist on Saturday. Later that day, she had partial hip replacement surgery. Based on my phone conversations with her, she’s doing remarkably well, especially considering the fact that she’s 82 now. I’m actually more concerned about my Uncle Connie (he’s 89), who has had more than nine lives already. He’s bleeding internally, but after lots of tests, the doctors don’t know what organ is causing the problem. They’ve decided against exploratory surgery to determine and/or repair the cause, so things look grave. He’s been such a solid, consistent, loving presence over the course of my life that I just want to be near him to wish him well and lend any support I can.

It is so, so strange being back in the urban nexus. I drove down Ponkapoag Rd., I street I've driven down thousands and thousands of times, and this time I was so struck by how many houses there were. One cape after another, all packed tightly together. Not only that--there are cars everywhere, and stores, and people coming out of the walls. I'm in culture shock.

Got to run to the hospital. More later.