There was very little sleep past night: we were up in shifts, managing our first fever with the babe.
Cold compresses, sad little whimpers that broke my heart into pieces.
The heat came on quick in the Seattle airport on our way home from a trip to see friends that filled my soul up to brimming with goodwill and peace. These things carried me through the plane ride
with Orion stretched out limp and hot across both of our laps
patched with cold towels from the concerned stewardesses and bottle after bottle of water.
These things of friendship carried me home.
I am so solitary so much of the time that I forget how much in-the-flesh friendships can change the very feel of the world. I forget how much I need conversation and care beyond the sweetness that Anthony and I know after work and on the weekends.
My time with the Dove and a host of heavenly others had me hankering for regular good-natured debates and the power of women sitting in circles with great brains and white wine and the ability to think and respond to new and age-old ideas alike with wit and sass and love.
I returned here dreaming of returning there.
The babe was cool to the touch when I laid him down for a nap a little while ago.
In the midmorning he pointed to his molars and made very sad faces.
Leela sleeps on my lap with the bonelessness of kittenhood and my mind swims with the things I'll do in the studio later today. All is well.
May it be so for you, too.