It's ten thirty at night and I am home from rehearsal and have eaten my supper and made Mr. Moon's lunch for tomorrow and all I have left to do is put away the leftover pork and red bean and acorn squash with red peppers and onions and salsa verde stew I made for our supper and then wash the pot. The stew was good. So was the cornbread and so was the salad.
And I am tired.
One more rehearsal before opening night and that is that. Kathleen sent us home tonight with instructions to relax tomorrow, have a glass of wine and to make love.
Bossy directors just make me crazy.
Owen's coming again tomorrow morning, bright and early. We tried something new today. I tied in into the old high chair I have with a scarf and put tiny pieces of banana on the tray for him to try to get into his own mouth. He made grave and serious attempts but couldn't seem to grasp the concept. He thinks, at this point, that bananas grow from loving fingers for him to suck. After laughing at him for awhile and taking his pictures, I obliged his belief and let him have the bananas from my own fingers. When I got a bite into his mouth he smiled as if he'd seen heaven's gate and the light was pouring onto him. Oh! How I wish I'd gotten that picture. Well, these are the ones I got.
His mean Aunt Jessie came out and as you can see, she is so mean. And so beautiful. She held him while he slept.
He is growing so fast.
So is my heart.
Time for bed. Time for bed. May we all sleep like that tonight, deeply and purely, growing, even as we sleep, as we dream, in our hearts at the very least.