On August 6, 2011, my youngest child’s 5 th birthday, in the middle of a sleepover, at 9:30-ish pm, a family friend, 2 years old, sleeping in her car seat, was shot and killed inside her father’s Toyota 4runner in a remote area in Placer County. It’s an unthinkable cold fact, and really hard. Since August, we’ve kept our antennae up, alert for signs of the girl’s playful spirit. I work hard at being notfurious. At about that general time, I had come to terms with time itself, its coming and going, my calling to jot some things down, make sense of mine, reconcile it, set things right, quiet myself down. My people have occasionally encouraged me to set thoughts to paper. My girl soulmate fanfriend Kellye once had simply said, “You have an interesting story to tell.” Being in my own skin, my story is unremarkable, plainly simple to me. I don’t know anything otherwise. But with this seed planted, in quiet pausing moments, a new question arises now and again: I’m off to Russia...