Richard from Texas left today. Flew back to Austin. I took the drive with him to the airport, and we were both sad. We stood for a long time on the sidewalk before he went inside.

"What am I gonna do when I don't have Liz Gilbert to kick around anymore?" He sighed. Then he said, "You've had a good experience at the Ashram, haven't you? You look all different from a few months back, like maybe you chucked out some of that sorrow you been hauling around."

"I'm feeling really happy these days, Richard."

"Well, just remember—all your misery will be waiting for you at the door upon your exit, should you care to pick it up again when you leave."

"I won't pick it up again."

"Good girl."

"You've helped me a lot," I told him. "I think of you as an angel with hairy hands and cruddy toenails."

"Yeah, my toenails never really did recover from Vietnam, poor things."

"It could've been worse."