The night before last, the kids and I flew home to Ben.
The days are cool and overcast here; I've been wearing jeans and sweaters.
In DC we were tempted to walk around the yard naked and stay in the pool for hours.
The fair is in town, my favorite-- the colors and lights, people hurling through space, their exhilarated screams, french fries and turkey legs, the smell of grilled corn on the cob. The four of us went yesterday and piled into a photo booth, looked at ice sculptures, threw darts at balloons -- a little summer homecoming.
Today I feel like a balloon on a string, hovering just outside my body, filled til taut.
I bought two pounds of cherries at the market, and somehow the thought of pitting six cups by hand actually feels appealing. Maybe tonight I will make a pie.
As I left family, the last two weeks began to take on a dream-like quality, the intimacy, the darkness, the natural daily gatherings. I've been thinking about how time will force our new reality.
Until then, I might float like a balloon for a few days, held onto by Silas and Eden. I wonder what Ben will be, as the four of us drift through the fair...