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Show Go Love/196 Summer Solstice-the day is all about light, the longest day, how it always goes away and always comes back. I am the light of the world the man said. "I hope to hell not," I tell Renee, motion outside where a shiny black limo seems bound for casket-filled cemeteries. "It's somebody else." . At terminal three claim, our suitcases whirl past; I grab handles and wrestle Lara's carseat out onto the first luggage cart I've ever not stolen. My wife and daughter wait outside the terminal while I hike out to JJ in long term A snow field shines up on Mount Olympus. It's three o'clock and will be daylight until ten today. On the way home we play the music loud, hit the DABC for vodka and tonic and then a food store for ribeyes, baking potatoes, mixed greens. University Street is a hodge-podge of steep-end student rentals, side by side the ramshackle bungalows where people like us live-untenured professors, an ex K-mart architect who works at Hill now and a lesbian prosecutor whose sunflowers grow wild around a steer's skull and whose brother is the governor of North Carolina or some such. Lazy in summer, loose dogs lope through lawn sprinklers while grad students drink import beer and play guitar and steel drum and smoke bongs on front porches. We've been missing two weeks plus-heads go up and bongs go down when we pass. "Daddy?" We roll up beside our own bungalow, the backyard grown wild, I see zucchini the size of my calf and a run of blight in the Big Boys. "What sweetie?" "Is Mama happy in her casket. Is she hungry?" My daughter unbuckles herself from the carseat. Her eyes are the same as Renee's, the same |