Dear Stuart,

"When will I have time for art?," I ask myself daily while I spend a good hour a day on cleaning and reorganizing things. Every. Day.

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, so I went to mass to get ashes. "Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return," she said as she marked my forehead with a black cross. Between that and the song that the man on the piano was singing, it made me cry.

My Nonno was in pretty good spirits yesterday, despite his legs being extremely weak. I had to cart him from his armchair to the kitchen table, something I've never had to do before. We talked about pasatelli for dinner but we didn't have enough Parmesan. So we made do with polenta, homemade sauce, and a fried egg. Feast from Scraps, it felt like. My favorite.

The day went by fast and I was once again reminded of the poor lighting at my Nonno's house. We began watching Gigi, the 1958 musical, and I kept asking my grandpa, "Why is he doing that?" "How do they know each other?", "Wait, what's the point of that?". "You're trying to create a story," my grandpa kept saying, kind of frustratingly (he was falling asleep and I kept him up with my questions), "when there isn't one. It just is what it is."

I came home and watched a little of the downhill skiing Olympics with my dad, discussed with my mom where we'd go for dinner tomorrow (today), and then fell asleep early. I was exhausted at 9pm and even more so at 10:30pm. I knew your package would be arriving and wanted so much to stay up and make sure you got it, talk to you, hear your voice in the darkness of my room and feel a little warmer. But I was too sleepy. I worried for a few minutes before I fell asleep, waking up again at 3am to see if you had called me yet. Whoops.

I suppose that's it. It's 9:20am now, I've been up since 6:30am, and I can't say I've done much. No art... yet. Time to get on with the day! 

Love you xoxoxo,