Dehydrated by a child sick this past week, by too many festivities, by not enough time to put words to screen.
Out the window...two squirrels chase each other good naturedly up and down a tree...playing follow the leader more than engaging in some aggressive mating mission. The sky, slightly brighter now, with melon undertones.
I'm hoping we can go to the beach. That I can sit on the sand with a cup of tea and watch the kids poke through tide pools.
A little woozy from a boy and a girl over-stimulated, who release their stress by whining and snapping and, in the case of Kitty Cat, sobbing over an inside out sock.
I can sometimes picture Fruit Bat, already, as a teenager--sullen and barky and condescending (with occasional flashes of self-possession). Other times, he is all little boy with his dinosaurs and his planets and his sticker books.
Yesterday morning I was ready to run away...over the mountains, into the Puget Sound, to Portland, anywhere. Now, in my depleted but recovering state, I want to be here to see what everyone becomes. How my relationship with J. evolves, how Kitty Cat will someday simply reach her hand into her sock and pull it rightside out, how Fruit Bat will morph into a young man, how long those squirrels can twirl around the trunk of tree.