Tomorrow, or the next day, it will hit 100 degrees, right in time for the first of June. How organized of the weather.

And we are still here. No disasters have struck. Even MacBeth, the Comedy was not too disastrous, and Joseph is already looking back on it with fond memories.

On our anniversary, over a plate of hummus, Silas and I decided to move ahead with plans to sell our house and hopefully move into a condo at the Fresno cohousing community. We contacted our church friend who is a realtor that evening, and two days later the first people who came to look at our house offered the full asking price and it is now in escrow.

It feels right. The Langley’s, I am coming to accept, are migratory. And once one accepts that, it’s okay. Butterflies are migratory. Canadian geese. Native Americans used to move around a lot. Gypsies. I play lots of instruments, after all, and Joseph is quite good on recorder.

Gypsies probably didn’t own thirty boxes of books, though. I’m sure butterflies don’t. It would be awkward. But that’s something migratory book lovers just have to deal with.

And so on into June, which will be hot and pungent with the smell of cardboard boxes and packaging tape.


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