Did you ever get so tired of thinking about the same thing that anything else, no matter how random, was a relief? My brain is tired. And it hurts almost as much as my heart. So, I found myself going to my “happy place”. That’s right, I have a happy place. It’s an old happy place, but I guess that doesn’t matter. It works. There is a kitchen in Monkstown, Ireland. Not far from Dublin. And a woman named, Maura, who was my mother during my junior year in college. She was lovely to me. She yelled at me for not eating more at dinner. And breakfast. And lunch. She scolded me when I forgot my key. She fixed me hot tea when I was sick. It made me sleep. And to this day I haven’t tasted tea like that. huh. … She made pavlova. I miss her. I hope she knows how often I think of her. How much I wish her happiness.