The Light is Returning

+ Farro with Roasted Chickpeas and Vegetables

Excessive winds have carried a warmth that will temporarily swell our city. We used our time, this time, this temporary, to be outside- there is no more newness to “unseasonably warm” because isn’t it just so now? We walked our short and familiar walk around the block- Little shouting go webs, go! Moonie lingering back and remarking on her baby brother, her baby, he’s getting so big- he runs so cute.

He is and he does. I look down at her too-long sleeves covering her hands and I can still find my own baby there. The weather is warm even if it’s temporary- not warm enough to hide the roses left behind from the wind that has started to go cooler. Little beat us home, we let him, we wanted him to. I started making dinner and caught the warmth and time disorienting myself for a moment before looking over my shoulder- realizing it’s already 5 and the sun has yet to set. Then 5:30 and the sun still sags off the roof of the garden shed. The light is returning. There’s temporary warmth that I welcome and revere. There is light still flooding my kitchen- no overhead light required to chop broccoli florets and slice red cabbage steaks. Just the light and the warmth.

We’ll pay as we do and as we should- a reckoning. This warmth will fade. The bottom will literally drop out and replace the warmth with the type of cold that crystalizes the wetness in eyes and nose and throat. A 40 degree swing in the other direction within 24 hours- too cold to enjoy what little snow is able to still fight through the frozen atmosphere. My babies will be 25 miles north in a home I’ve never seen, in a bed I’ve never made. I’ll sink into Anaya as we let the sounds from the tv fill the void for awhile as we do once they’re gone again. There isn’t much to say- there’s so much to say. Hi, I’ve missed you. Hi, what a week, hey? Hi, I miss them already. Hi, I’m grateful for this time with you and us and the hushed sounds of a noise machine left on for nobody to soothe except it does. Kids live here, our kids live here, even if not everyday. I leave the remnants of their breakfast on the bar for a little while longer. When I finally rinse and then rinse and then scrub the smoothie remains from glasses I let myself smile knowing I won’t have to do this for 6 days. I let myself grieve that I won’t have smoothie to scrape down the sides of glasses for 6 whole days. Two things can be true.