This has been a rough week. A strange week. A convergence of hopes and uncertainties that has left me extremely aware of all my tender spots...and that I am, in fact, made up of tender spots.

A week of physical and mental exhaustion. Of grief anniversaries and gratitude for flags flying at half-staff. A week where words have seemed a barricade, not a bridge, with me trapped alone with my meanings and everyone else on the other side.

A week where I can do nothing but bang my head against the immutable truth of my father's absence...where I just want to ask one question...just one question, Vati, please: can't you tell me what Kit's profession should be? Because I can't figure it out and I know you'd know.

A week that I'm hoping ends tonight. Because I could really use a new leaf to pen tomorrow upon. Please?