It is 3:27 am, and I am sitting on my back steps, waiting for a ride to the airport for our 6:00 am flight. It is balmy, not hot, this morning, but I have socks and a sweater on, knowing what I know about airport temperatures and airplane air conditioning. No photo, no nothing this morning. I have little to report other than anxiousness and curiosity, coated with some enthusiasm, but at this hour, despite coffee and yogurt, I cannot muster much else.
My suitcase is full of old sandals people have donated for women prisoners - some, I might add, are might high stepping for prison attire, but it is, after all, Chestnut Hill.
I promised I'd be curbside, so I'd better get out there, peanut butter and banana sandwiches packed for all.
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