This is a time in my life that will remain framed in my memory. I know it even as it unfolds in present tense, the sharp contrasts of my daily life etching their strange juxtaposition onto my mind in permanent ink. It all began in earnest on the first day of vet school. Just the day before, I had actually felt like an adult and even had the proof: an apartment, a car, a husband, a food processor. Now, as I left my home, backpack on my shoulders and lunchbox in hand, I half-expected my mother to appear with the Polaroid camera in order to snap the requisite "first day of school" photo of me standing in the driveway. It didn't matter that the back of the picture would now have to read "17th grade" or that my lunchbox didn't have any cartoon characters on it. I wanted a hug and a cookie.