A Thousand Miles

If Roz Chast drew a pie chart of my road-weary brain, it would be divided into "what-ifs," "how comes," and "why nows."

Part of me is still in Portland, Maine, eating delicious pastries and walking the cobblestone streets. Part of me is at the funeral in Pennsylvania five days later, sitting between my sister and my husband, listening to my cousin eulogize his wife so poignantly that her vibrant life has taken on the shape of a diorama erected inside my head.