Owen is crunch-crunch-crunching some Chex Mix in the third course of his mid-afternoon lunch. Or whatever meal this is. The first course was two containers of yogurt, the second a carrot and now two (so far) servings of Chex Mix.
And I forgot about that chomping of the collards in the garden he did. I don't know that he actually eats any of the collards he chomps like a mule but he does chew them up a bit before he spits them out.
Of course by supper he won't want a drop of soup but whatever.
I do not care.
And now the sun is setting and the sky and light are orange, that sad last-ditch-effort orange and it's funny how sunset can be my favorite time of day or my least-favorite, depending.
Sirens go by, splitting the air with shrill hurry-hurry-hurry and I wonder who is hurt and wonder whose life just changed in the last few minutes whether by accident or some attack of the body and even though Owen is here and we just picked salad and he keeps hugging me and also his horse, it is very hard to not feel unsettled in this light, this letting-go-of-day, this moment when children used to stand at the door, waiting for their fathers to come home.