When I really can’t sleep, I imagine sitting outside with Panerai. His head on my lap. Panerai came home on my dad’s shoulder, bumbling and blue eyed and eating my brother’s shoes. We’re seated under the shade of my parents home. The image is static. The image is many days of listless time.
I’m in the airport again. LAX instead of Ontario because I found a good deal. The minute I enter, homesickness. Heading to bag drop off. No one at security. I walk back and forth. It gets harder to wait in this waiting space. Leaving family for friends and then friends for family. Two hours before boarding. Sitting in a leather seat and slipping.
In the morning, cleaning. Getting things ready. Putting ice cubes on top of the chameleon cages. One more vacuum. Saying bye. Jeff looking at me. Kenny looking from farther away. The ice cubes melting little water droplets.
Before the airport, Petco for crickets and YiMei for breakfast. I will do this again. Thinking about all these things on the slippery leather seat. Connecting to earphones. Trying to find pop music. Napping. Waking. Buying a drink from an expensive cafe. Putting the mask back on.
Later on the plane. The deep breath of ascent. The dry air conditioning. The cardboard smell of the bathroom. One hour trip north. On the ground, picking up baggage.
In between, briefly confused by Southwest’s choose your own seat and then being taken back to a specific time in summer, making do with middle seats. The airplane wings quivering. The airplane wings flying differently. The person next to me asking me to take a picture of the sunset.
Last night, Aaron coming back home. Getting his stuff from all over the house. Helping him carry to the car. Waving away moths. Break. Playing a new song he wrote with his friend. Lip syncing. Laughing. Looking for more stuff. Getting passed down t-shirts. Him, back to school.
Starting the car with Fast Car. Dad telling me he can sing Diamonds and asking me to explain Counting Stars. Dad naming Panerai after a watchmaker.
Taking Jeff out to the succulent outside and seeing him eat a spider. Trying to figure out whether Jeff drinks water. Reading lots of chameleon forums. Watching documentaries. Maternal fear but no instincts. Eating the rest of the aiyu jelly in the fridge. When I land. Maybe getting tacos. Watching Avatar. Catching up.
At three on Sunday, catching the moving van and two men. Getting cash ready. This time, trying to take up less time. The crusty plaster of my parent’s home against my back. Panerai tugging on his leash even if it choked him. Everything around him was urgent. The side by side of San Francisco homes. Now, people filing out of 18A with their carry-ons. Putting on a hat.