My beautiful sister spoke in French when she came out from under her anesthesia cloud. The nurses didn't know if she spoke English or not. I heard this secondhand from my mother, and we shared a knowing chuckle in the dark over this totally Barbara behavior.

My heart is thudding sideways since I can't be there. I should be bringing her US Weekly and In Style, mindless drivel to drive out all the creeping doubt and pain. I should be fetching her things and coddling her towheads with my own towhead along for company. Mark this on the list, this isolation. A check mark to help pave the Alaska Highway through Canada, down through the Midwest, and finally to the South.