“In my experience signs are usually a lot more subtle.”
—Michael Chabon, Wonder Boys

I had to fly to a gig the afternoon after the election, so my wife and I took the boys to lunch. As we were leaving the house, I looked down at the floor and saw this scrap of paper. I knew immediately what it was — it was a word from the introduction to my own book, which I’d cut up and collaged. This scrap hadn’t made it. I wasn’t sure how it got there, since I’d done the cutting in my studio. (I figured it had stuck to my shoe and I had tracked it into the house.) But however it got there, there it was, on the floor of my laundry room. A single word. “Embrace.” I took a picture of it and put it in my pocket.

At lunch, a waiter asked a woman how she was and what she’d like to drink. “Well, I’m depressed,” she said. “So I’ll have a margarita with salt.” Soon, the woman’s friend arrived. She got up from her chair and they gave each other the longest hug.

I had not cried yet, but then and there, I almost lost it.

It’s been a sad couple of days. For now, I wish you margaritas and hugs… or their equivalent.