There is just enough breeze to evaporate your sweat and cool your skin. The wind chimes on the far end of the porch barely whisper.
It's tranquil here. A distant rooster or cow now and then. Mourning doves and other songbirds, but mostly deep stillness.
Now I know what the real cure for tinnitus is. Quiet, dressed in quiet, and carrying a bouquet of quiet.
A bird I've never seen, pale orange with dark tail tips just flashed by. No clue and no inclination to find out. He lives around here. I'm only visiting.
Charlie is in a very brief summer school program. I drop him off at nine and retrieve him at noon. Then we hang out. I'm soaking it up because, after this week, I'll have to schedule time around camp to see him.
The words are like stitches. One by one, they add up to a sentence, a passage, or a scene. The overall picture is still forming, but the groundwork has been laid.
1 comment:
Looking at Charlie I imagine the two of you enjoying a companiable silence together (and how does spellcheck not know that word ... tsk) ... we are still subject to the intensity of watching after a 3-soon-to-be-4 year old whirlwind ... I Know I'll miss it one day, as I already miss the infant-in-arms snuggling, but I'm looking forward to the day when she is just a bit more independent
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