Nathaniel hurtled through the house at around 5am this morning to join me. We tossed and turned in the waning dark, and got up at 5:45. I have tea steeping. He’s sitting in the not-red chair, looking at a George and Martha compendium that weighs almost as much as he does. Outside, it’s quiet and soft, humid, tree branches ruffled by wind. It may rain.
Honorée is deeply asleep, dreaming bicycle dreams.
Nathaniel is now next to me, asking “Can you please get away this stuff?” so he can read his book snuggled into me. Time to fix my tea.
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