letters from barabbas

I love visiting the homes of people I know from school: seeing them interact with their family, riding through their old stomping grounds, being pampered by mothers whose instincts extend to everyone the same age as their children. Such experiences always flesh out the people I've known so shortly and only within the context of Auburn's alternate reality.

There's something sacred in the transformation of a couch into a bed. Whether it folds out to poke your back with springs or is simply covered with sheets and slept lengthwise, it's a sacrament. It's the addition of beds beyond the bedrooms. It's extending the family beyond its nucleus.
I almost feel more honored on the couch than in a guest room.