I am calling it a wave because I am visualizing it passing on, leaving me a bit sand-scraped but intact.
We did puzzles in the hallway and I put the Rolling Stones on because we haven't listened to those fellas for awhile and we all lit up and Gibson ran back and forth, laughing in the hallway, wearing his hat, still, and Owen figured out the puzzles and he was so very proud of himself.
We played Monopoly, which for us means rolling the dice and moving our car or shoe or hat or dog or train around the game board. We don't bother with money or hotels or houses. We just count the dots on the dice and then count as we move. As good a way to learn to count as any, I think. When Owen landed on "Go To Jail!" he said, "I don't want to go to jail."
"Okay," I said.
Then when I landed on the same spot, he said, "You need to go to jail."
"You didn't," I pointed out.
He had to agree that fair was fair. I did not go to jail.
They wanted chocolate milk. Here's a little video of that.
We played with the chickens and fed them grapes. Owen is trying to teach Nicey to fly. He picks her up and puts her up on a roosting branch and demonstrates wing-flapping.
"See?" he says. "She can fly!"
"Oh Owen," I say. "I'm not sure she really likes it." But since she continues to come running to him, I guess she's mostly okay with the whole process.
The boys found three eggs in the nest and brought them in safely and whole.
We fed carrots to the mule who lives next door.
But while we there, over by the goat pen, Gibson got into some stinging nettle and I feel awful about that. It's a particularly noxious weed that stings and burns and itches and he's so allergically inclined and it immediately raised up into welts but he didn't cry, merely rubbed the places and whimpered a bit as if, "Why did the grass hurt me?"
We ran inside and I applied both Benadryl AND the "natural" comfrey cream, trying to cover all my bases and he sat on my lap and fell asleep, holding the carrot he was eating, against my old bosom.
I hate it when I let one of my grandchildren hurt themselves.
I've mostly survived this day. Mr. Moon is going to go to a basketball game in town and so I can watch crap TV without feeling guilty. Go to bed early, read. I've talked to Jessie on the phone and to Billy too. I've gotten e-mail and texts so sweet they made me cry.
So many things have made me cry today. It's okay. It's letting go of the anxiety, the pain, the fear. It's also the springing forth of all of that which nestles in my heart so sweetly, always there, no matter what else tries to displace it.
I hear the baby chickens peeping in the coop. Soon, maybe even tonight, I will hear the Chuck-Widow's-Will crying off in the distance for love. The owls will began to hoot and pant for the same. I think of the desperate need all creatures have for this connection. I think of the way my baby grandson felt as he fell asleep on my chest today. I think that life, even with its incredible difficulties and sadness and confusions is worth all of our attention and I am not ashamed as I struggle.
I am a creature and I am alive.
So are you.