Echoes.

Driving this morning to take Abbey to her dad’s for the first leg of summer visitation.
I hate taking her, but we were both in a cheerful mood, having gotten more sleep than we really should have.

We passed about 7 dead opossums along a mile stretch of road, leading to interesting questions about whether or not one single car had derailed the Great Opossum Exodus or if there was a mass suicide attempt by the depressed Opossums of the world.

Perhaps they were protested the clubbing of baby seals as well.

Or perhaps there was a serial killer on the loose.

Abbey decided that they could all be alive and just playing dead… and we screamed in unison that if they were playing dead, they sure were good at it!

I informed her that they were all teenage opossums with a natural flair for the dramatic.

She and I drove up to her dad’s house laughing so hard we were crying.

I’m going to miss her.
Two weeks can sometimes be a lifetime.