Auntie Pat is awesome.

I was going to walk the cat around the block — well, let her walk me; she kind of follows where I go — but I saw Auntie Pat gardening and that was that. I danced luck in her backyard one year and she’s never forgot it, so I did promise her I’d do it again, and for me, part of the promise is not letting myself lose track of her again. She’s so very calm, you know? She’s seen so much that she can take a whole lot in her stride. She also understands about pain days and brain days. Auntie Pat is awesome like that.

Every girl needs an Auntie Pat. (Or an Uncle Chuck. Or both.) The girl across the street, for example, is caught up in her dad’s second divorce in five years, and Pat is helping her cope. If I weren’t the neighborhood freak, I’d offer to help mentor Maddie, but I think I’ve about lost whatever normal-girl cred I ever had here. Still, I wish I could help. I remember being little like Maddie and pretty darn lost.

Just like you are in this entry, I suspect, but that’s all right. I’m being rambly. Don’t mind me.

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