Amy and Zoe are in Kentucky this week, on a family errand. Her grandfather is not well, and she headed up there to spend the week with him, making audio recordings of his many stories.
He has quite a story--one worth writing down--and she hopes to write a book about him.
What that leaves me is alone in this house with the cats, the dog, and the canaries. It amazes me how much this place feels empty (small though it may be) without the two most important ladies in my life.
Amy reported that Zoe was amazingly good on the plane, which is a huge relief. Not that she would have cared if Zoe cried the whole way, but I'm glad that my little girl didn't make the flight hard on the other passengers.
It's incredible. She's only been alive for just a bit more than 12 weeks, and now she's spending a week a thousand miles away. Bah. I'm going to bed.
