Monday, December 13, 2010

From Flagstaff

It took a lot for me to open this page and start typing.

I went home the day after posting that last thing. Right now I'm in my old bedroom in our old house, and Ted is making soup downstairs for dinner while Mom grades papers (she teaches middle school) and plays christmas carols. Andrew's coming home soon too, he'll be here on thursday, and Aunt Caroline's going to be over tomorrow to help Mom and I make cookies.

The cookies thing is a holiday tradition: we spend 2-3 days making ridiculous ammounts of Norwegian cookies from recipes passed down from my great grandparents. We make krumkake, rosettes, wreath-shaped cookies, and my personal favorite, drommer. Closer to christmas (as in, on the day before) Aunt Caroline makes lefse, which is a sort of potato-based tortilla. Ted doesn't help, usually, because he does most of the cooking for dinners and the like. He's an amazing cook.

It's a comfort to be home. I didn't realize how much I missed my family and my hometown. I haven't gotten in touch with any of my friends here just yet, because I want some time to myself to just be with my family. Dad's going to visit with his wife Laurie and daughter Hannah, they'll be here in a few days. They usually spend at least part of christmas break with us, and then actual Christmas at their home in San Bernadino, with Laurie's family. I always think it's a little strange that my parents get along as well as they do. It's not like they're best friends, but they like seeing each other once a year, and of course Dad wants to see me. The strangest part of it is that Dad and Ted love hanging out together. There's absolutely no awkwardness between them. They go out to basketball games together. Andrew calls it a bromance.

I think I'm avoiding what I came on here to say.

I'm done with the meds, by the way. Kevin only gave me so many (in hindsight I think he might have been making sure I didn't try to hurt myself, which is maybe the sweetest thing he's ever done for me. The scary thing is that he was right to only give me a few). I've been crying a lot more lately but somehow it feels better than nothing. I think going home was the best thing for me to do- I'm surrounded by people who love me and care about me. Mom and Ted are being understanding and wonderful in general. They keep doing little things to cheer me up. And Andrew's going to take me ice skating when he gets here even though he hates it because he always falls on his ass.
That's still not what I meant to say, though.

Jill's funeral is in four days. I'm going to drive down to Phoenix by myself, even though Mom, Ted, and Andrew all volunteered to go with me. But I want to do it on my own.
There's been no forward movement on finding her killer. Apparently the police in Phoenix are working with the Texas police, but there's really not that much to go off of, just a voice on the phone. Apparently no one in the little town even remembers seeing Jill, so she could have been killed somewhere else and taken to the woods.
I hate writing these sentences, they make me feel sick.


  1. I will remember Jill. I failed to help her. I didn't get a chance to know her really, but I will remember her, her goals she spoke of.

    You're not alone in that, though you knew her infinitely better than I.

  2. ...
    Damn. I'm sorry.
    I hope they catch the man (woman?) who did it soon.

  3. Zero: Thank you. I think she talked about you in an email, specifically telling you it's not your fault...I'll have to go back and look, but I think it's somewhere in the blog.
    Of course she also told me not to blame myself, and you can see how well that's going.

    Pete: Thanks. I hope so too.