The Gray Month

Puck walked into breakfast…

“Mom, I want to be a bookworm when I grow up.”

A noble goal.

The contrast of Hallowe’en to the first of November was stark. Friday morning was gold and sun and cold blue sky, but not enough to keep the windows closed.

Puck watched the steam from my tea curl into the open bowl of an orange tulip draped over the table…

“Mom, you might want to move your tea so that it doesn’t catch the flower on fire.”

He rubbed his finger on the black “pollinators” as he called them, which he thought was charcoal.

Before the neighborhood kids could play, Puck and I wrapped up school with a reading about dogs.

“So, I guess in older days people would bring their dogs to church to keep their feet warm,” I explained.

Puck paused carefully drawing up a sheet of paper with colored Sharpies.

“Mom. Wouldn’t that not be holy to God?”

We discussed.

After the reading, I began to close windows. It was getting cold.

“Can you open the window again?” Puck asked, still sketching. “It helps me think.”

But the kids were ready to play outdoors: plastic swords, space guns, lightsabers, tree climbing, whatever available. I took this opportunity to prepare baked fish sandwiches while learning a little more about South Korean high schools: 16-hour school days until 11PM at night, and often on Saturdays as well. Amazing.

So we were supposed to paint Rose’s apartment a pumpkin-soup sort of color that evening while watching The Village. But because there was only one paint roller and a brush left, it turned into just us three oldest sisters [Linnea had a volleyball bonfire back at the Big House], and Lucia [toting Starbucks], with a large hamburger Imo’s pizza [not delivered by David Freese].

Adoption Status: Down: 4 years, 2 months; To Go: 2 years, 1 months.