I am in Uruguay next to an overflowing river. I'm wearing a pair of shoes that are much too small for me. It's early afternoon and the sun feels like a long hot finger on my scalp. On my wrist there are seven watches that are all set to different timezones. Beckett practices singing an Italian aria on the grass next to me. I look up and it begins to rain. I wonder where the sun has gone and sense I may never see it again. I taste tears in the back of my throat and swallow them down. Beckett is now three feet taller. She shows me a box of saltine crackers that she's made "from scratch." She puts the cracker in my mouth. I allow it to dissolve on my tongue.
