My grandmother almost died today. I was in a car headed up to Portland with my friend Rachel when my sister called me and told me.

It was surreal. I was surrounded by huge green hills north of Oakland. The sun was coming up. My sister told me she had a stroke while she was sleeping.

I saw my grandmother a week and a half ago. She hugged me for a long time when I left that last day. She was just as smart and aware as she’d always been.

She has no neurological problems but is very tired and dehydrated. We really thought she was gone today. Man.

I’m in Portland now, in Powell’s Books downtown. I put my suitcase in my storage unit in SE Portland and walked across the Hawthorne bridge to get to the other side of the river. I am drinking iced coffee and watching people go by on the street.

I miss my grandmother. I have to hear her voice again soon or I’m going to go nuts.