What strikes me lately is that we’ve had wars — plural.

The word moves too easily into conversation now, as if it were a season or weekend plans.

This should never be normal.

Sometimes at night, when sleep refuses to come — because sirens and adrenaline have trained my nervous system to prep for danger — I find myself drifting back to music from the eighties.

Songs from another universe entirely:

Madonna. Erasure. George Michael. Cuz you gotta have faith.

And I go home to my childhood for a moment.

Salt and sand and suntan oil on Venice Beach.

A loud world of blue eye shadow and fuchsia lipstick.

Big hair. Neon lights.

I was a kid then with huuuuuge plans.

Doctor. Astronaut. Fairy princess.

All of them felt equally possible.

One of the songs that keeps finding me again lately is Ahah’s “Take On Me.”

Take on me. Take me home.

I heard it again just........

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