Well I can be sentimental now too.

I've always loved that deep blue in the sky when you can't figure out if it's early morning or late evening. The color that confuses clocks and makes me stop what I'm doing just to walk outside and wonder if it's day or night - and wonder whether there is a difference. It's the blue that colors my strangest dreams.

Fog so thick it feels like it has substance and secrets and it's tempting you into something. Snow and fog and the lightest tapping of rain. And that amazing blue.

It was between evening and morning when we left work last night. So warm, so blue and foggy and thick. Even with the gauche casino lights seeping in, just serene. I rolled my window down, sipped my coffee and lit a cigarette. I pulled out onto Lafayette with an album about driving playing low through the speakers. Without really deciding anything, I was driving too - in the opposite direction of home.

Driving meant possibilities but the familiarity of my kitchen, my bed, my toothbrush just meant safety and comfort. I drove because I had another good day, I felt good and I wanted to make it last. I drove because I haven't gotten in my car late at night without crying, or stalking or wondering whether life would be better for her if I just took my hands off the wheel in a long time.

I thought about sitting on a barstool in Detroit Sunday night when a Protest Song took me by surprise, eyes closed, to a porch in Ann Arbor on a muggy summer night. A time, years ago, when I was lonely and sad and wantful. "For those who fight sleep." I thought about how funny it is when you think you're the only one who hears the music right. How I HAVE held you closer than you could imagine...flying from my hands. I thought about how things can be, simultaneously, so true and so melodramatic. How beautiful it is when the pain's not part of the memory anymore. Like childbirth. God, I know it hurt like hell, but how bad was it again? And you hope you've learned to either be well prepared for it next time, or get the epidural because you're certainly not going to give up on the end result because you might hurt for it.

I drove to a neighborhood near the lake and parked on the side of the road. Stepped out into a mud puddle. Brick tudors and iron gates. Nicely trimmed hedges and that amazing blue glow from televisions in darkened bedrooms. Snug under their covers watching Conan, worried about packing lunches. Dinner with the in-laws. Keeping score. Resentful about money. I wanted to invite them to walk with me down to the lake under a better blue, but I really just wanted to be alone.

I thought about my miracle in her big-girl bed with her fierce protector just feet away from her. How her smile has gotten so bright. How stunning she is in unimaginable ways. What a gift of purpose I've received. I kicked some rocks, noticed how dirty my boots were getting, but kept walking and sipping and smoking and smiling just because.

I thought about how lazy it is to assume. How I don't want people in my life to assume. I want them to know. I want to know. I thought about turning 30 and the sense of justification it gives me. Like I am qualified now, somehow, to have opinions and beliefs. I've earned the right to wander through rich people's neighborhoods in the middle of the night. To ask for what I want. To experience a birth of confidence - real confidence based on ugly love and heartbreak and dry spells and drama and failure. I have the right to be serious about silliness but about grievances too.

I thought about my cats meowing for food at home. How they've been with me for seven years. Seen too many men come but always go. Have walked across the floors of four different homes to their water dish. Scratched up a dozen different party dresses. Watched curiously as I sobbed, face down on the floor. Pricked up their ears in horror as I fell face down in the toilet, drunk out of my mind. Snuggled me as I read quietly. Ran from me as I laughed hysterically and danced around in a fit of giddiness. Their gentleness with Claire. Their annoyance with her. The way they snuggle at the foot of my bed together or sit in the window and chatter at birds.

I thought about how easily I fall for someone and how quickly I backtrack once I've gotten their attention. How many times I've convinced Erin and Jen I was "super in love" in the past year. How many times I was just looking for a distraction. How I'm probably just looking for one now. I thought about sitting at The Raft, nervous and insecure. Thought about driving to New York in the middle of the night in silence and how in love I was. I thought about how peculiar it is that we allow some animals to run wild through our neighborhoods but if we see other animals, we put flyers up for them. How weird mushrooms are. How funny it is that we need alcohol to enhance ourselves. Thought about my past and tried to imagine my future. Thought about how I'm actually genuinely relieved to not have a Valentine this year. Thought I might actually like to keep it that way for a while.

I couldn't even see the water because of the fog. I could feel it tingling on my skin. I sat down in the mud, yawned and sipped cold coffee just feeling the water and knowing it was there. I sat for a long time just because I had another good day and I felt good.