We are treading water here, waiting for the inevitable, serenely. We are past all dangerous early arrivals. It is the calm before the storm.
I went for a walk around the neighborhood yesterday evening at sunset. The sky was streaked with clouds that the sun slipped through on its descent. The golden sunlight played with the palette of orange and scarlett leaves, highlighting and deepening them, making me remember days as a kid on similar tree lined streets playing kick the can or cowboys and horses until we were called in for supper. I was happy in my nostalgia, gratified that there are still such streets in America.
Just at dark I go back inside the house. Jay blogs on, and Maya and Anya sit in the big chair. Anya playing with Maya and watching Sesame Street while Maya reads "Siblings without Rivalry". Anya and I have made pumpkin pie to have after supper. We have spent most of the day in preparation for the coming baby, sorting clothes, buying onsies, making more room in the bedroom. Anya filled with nervous excitement. Her solitary reign is coming to an end. A baby brother now is part of her menagerie of pretend world players where Mommy, Dado, Grammy, ANYA, Nolly, Pooh, Curious George, Hans Solo(thanks to Jay the whole panoply of Stars Wars is familiar to her) and others mix and mingle. So far the baby brother is controllable. He has only made Mommy's stomach big. But she senses worse to come. Helpless to save her from her destiny, I feel love and compassion for her as the tsunami approaches.