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  • Day 68

    Love

    October 21, 2017 in Canada ⋅ ⛅ 11 °C

    My eyes opened in the dark. This peculiar darkness is softened by alternating hues of pink and blue and green cast by a machine that resembles a seashell sitting on the top ledge of Oliver's desk. The pulsing circumambience is comforting to Ollie. It disguises the darkness, lets him keep himself company. It's the weekend and I will sometimes have a sleep over with him. Unlike his mom, he can sleep through me reading or watching a show late into the night.

    Ollie wants to get up.
    It's the weekend, I tell him. No rush.
    I like to get up early, he says. He rolls over my legs and tip toes downstairs to find the iPad. I can hear Toby in our bed next door. He wants Jessica to go downstairs. She is saying no. He stomps downstairs and grabs the iPad Aite gave him. He marches back upstairs past Ollie's room and returns to his rightful place next to his mom.

    Jessica walks in and sits on the end of the bed. She wants coffee. I tell her that I'll make it. I'm just trying to remember something first.
    I want to punch you in the nards, she says.
    The imminent danger makes it more difficult to remember what I'm trying to remember.

    7:30 Saturday. Coffee is now on. Nards are intact. I open the book I just started. It's called Time's Arrow. The morning stretches out in front of us. We're not going anywhere. Time keeps ticking but we don't notice it for a few blissful hours. Ollie is balled up on the couch watching Netflix. Jessica and Toby are lying parallel to each other in bed eating dry Cheerios. I fall slightly deeper into the book. I don't quite reach total immersion but it's good enough.

    I'm interested in the love of togetherness through time. The love that grows from a seed casually, experimentally dropped into the earth by some unseen hand. In time it crawls all over itself to get at the sun and the rain. Like a clematis vine, climbing tangled up some lattice work and tumbling about blooming flowers every spring. Each year it bunches up in strength and doubles down on it's influence across the fence. It is its own monument, a tower of resilience, a testament of patience and persistence.
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