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October 22, 2007
There is a thickness to the air, so familiar from when I last felt it at 8, when it pressed itself to my face and I almost held it. Now itís here outside the airport, near the shuttle bus, between me and the palm trees. I try to unwrap it as I wait, but thereís no taking it off. It could rain at any time, but I know it wonít. I try to breathe deeply but my lungs are hard to inflate. The moisture hangs invisible, welcoming me back, carried in this famous sunshine, laughing that Iím not wearing shorts.