When I'm sad, I cry. When Shawn's sad, he cooks - what a pair. Standing in the produce aisle New Year's Day on our last big grocery trip before Shana leaves, I lost it. Sobbing all over the tomatoes. People staring. Shawn trying to help. We made it out of Fry's and Miss-late-night-slept-somewhere-I-hope-she's-safe-daughter eventually came home - glitter still on her face, smokey eyes and dangly earrings from what looks like a fun New Year's Eve and sat down for a last Saturday lunch at home for a long time. I tried to smile. I took a picture. The tomatoes were good.
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