Probably

To the woman reading this right now, probably sitting in her bed holding up printed pages of my blog even though she has both a laptop and an iPad in her school bag. She's reading through cheap reading glasses with her legs straight out in front of her, crossed, rubbing her feet together. She's probably wearing a red bathrobe, and her lap is being kneaded and walked on by two brother cats named Simon and Garfunkel who never seem to leave her alone. She pretends it annoys her, but she secretly loves the company. She has the 10:00 local news on the TV, and there is probably a pile of unmarked 1st grade worksheets stacked next to her on the bed. She's probably laughing at how accurate this scene is: the robe, the cats, the stack of worksheets. There's a chance she may be smile-crying, too. She's reading my blog (in paper form) and she's missing me, but what she doesn't know is that I'm writing for her. And I'm missing her. And I'm in NYC probably sitting on my bed with my legs straight out in front of me, crossed, rubbing my feet together while I type this. Probably.