Tired

I just don't know. It's ten o'clock and I only got home from second auditions less than an hour ago and we ate a late supper and I'm so tired and Owen's coming tomorrow at six and I just wonder how, how, HOW can I do another play now? They're so much work.

And this may be premature. I don't even know if I'll get offered a part. There were a lot of new people there tonight- some very fine talent. So, there is that.
But I just don't know that I have the joy I should have. The fire. It takes fire to do something that hard for love.

Yeah, well. I probably shouldn't be worrying about it right now while I'm so tired. It was a long, hot day. The sky got dark and there was thunder all afternoon but nothing happened except that heavy denseness which held the heat in place like a brick oven and after my walk and working outside it took me hours to get my body temperature back to a normal place.

The firespike is just beginning to send out its red blooms and the sasanquas and camellias are putting out buds, still tight and hard, but representing promise that summer will end.

Promise. Choices.

All I really know is that Owen will be here before light and hopefully, he'll get back in the bed with me and hold onto me and go to sleep. And then, like the turkeys and the goats and the chickens and the mule, we shall play and play all day. And May said she'd come out tomorrow afternoon and that will be wonderful, too. I need to get my arms around her. I need that.

Time for sleep. Oh yes, it truly is. Morning will come early and a boy will come and he will say, "Bop?" "Chickens?" "Smoothie?"

"Yes, love," I will say. "Here is your Bop and the chickens are asleep and we shall have smoothie when we get up. Come to bed now, come to bed."