There is nothing like moving in and sleeping on the couch to get to know people. I know my sister and brother-in-law well, of course. Once I lived with them for a summer. Many, many years ago, of course. And we were all so different.

They were young marrieds. He was in the Air Force and had to be away some nights. I was taking classes at the University of Arizona. Just having a lark and getting away from Texas for a summer. I was 19 years old at the end of the summer. I drove my VW around town, ate at Taco Bells or ate tacos at the student union when I could afford it. I studied, sat by the pool and read enormous books, even had a few dates. It was a nice time. When I couldn't afford to eat tacos out, my sister and I would cook them and drink rum and Pepsi. Pepsi was cheap for some reason and the rum came from Nogales, Sonora. We could make short jaunts to that Mexican border town on weekends.

My sister is different since her health problems. But the same in some ways. She wants me to have a good time just like she did that summer. She fixed up a bedroom in their apartment for me and everything. We aren't always interested in the same things but we understand the things that the other one likes. She talks me into helping her unpack some of the furnishings for Mom's giant dollhouse today. She has trouble getting up and down those two steps with her sore leg and edema. I feel sorry for her. And I love her. And I worry about becoming disabled like her. If I feel a little dizzy from jumping up too fast or from allergies I worry. Only for a moment, until the rational side of me takes over. You know the one. The one that thinks bad things happen to other people and that I am immortal. My sister and I have always been very different. But her illness has increased the distance.

A walk around the neighborhood reveals the flowers and robins of spring since we've turned back the clock by driving up here. Spring is mostly summer back home. In the sea of middle class ranch houses, flowers in whiskey barrels, extra driveway space, decorative boulders, driftwood or a fancy mailbox pass for chic. My sister's house has a full basement. I imagine many houses have them. And that they are choc-a-bloc with boxes and things like theirs.

Not many people are out walking in this neighborhood although it's quite pleasant until you reach a major street. And the weather is very conducive to walking, too.

My brother-in-law is having trouble with his computer. I conclude that the left mouse button has ceased to work. I ask if he has a spare. No. A basement full of boxes and no spare mouse? People reveal their priorities in subtle ways. I call my niece who is a geek.

"You know the drawer with all the spare computer parts that you have?" I ask, not having ever seen such in her house but confident that it exists.

"Yeah." She says, hesitantly.

"Find a mouse in there and bring it to your dad." I say.

"OK, sure." She says.

"His left button isn't working. Weird."

"That is weird."

"He was clever, though, once I figured that out. He switched the acessibility options so the right button did select and stuff. You don't need the right functions to avoid madness so much. I was going crazy figuring out keyboard commands."

"OK, I'll bring one. That is clever." She, too, was amazed that her dad knew that much since she is often his IT person.

Yeah, you know people. But they surprise you. My sister's tenacity in getting well again and again (in spite of her refusal to really work hard on PT) amazes me. The kids amaze me a lot. And the place they live gives me pause. In its suburban sameness of residential, park, commercial. But it's nice. Really.