I'm feeling quiet. I'm also processing many things. And I can't seem to find a chunk of computer time anywhere in my day.
We're very busy.
Yesterday I chopped vegetables with M and we made soup for dinner together on the roof, after our devotion circle. Broccoli, carrots, parsnips, tomatoes, mushrooms. Spring onions and cilantro. It was good. Just the kind of soup I needed, since I'm a bit sick.
The Turbans are trickling back into town. That means fun and music.
Kid A, YaYa, Leafy and I went on a dolphin trip this morning with M and a new friend who is leaving soon. We went out with some neighbors who are fishermen, in pursuit of dolphins. The sun rose after we were on the boat for awhile. The dolphins came, though not where we expected them. Dolphins. Always where you least expect them. Our neighbors, who live on fish and have probably fished since they were children, before all this traveler madness happened here, were sweet and kind. They invited Kid A and YaYa to take turns driving the boat. I saw Kid A swell with happiness. Afterward, he said, "It was pretty hard to keep the throttle open." Which in Kid A language means, "I loved it and I'm proud and happy and joyful."
The dolphins slipped through the water. There is a peculiar kind of longing when you see dolphins. What is it? You want to be with them. You want them to accept you, to tell you, "You the most dolphin-like human I've ever seen." You watch from far off as the rising sun touches their wet, slippery flanks, and they slip off to places you can't follow.
There is a Gala at a nearby international juggling convention tonight. I'm trying to gauge whether I have the energy to go. I'd like to, we do every year. The kids would like it.
We have beautiful visitors with a sweet and perfect year old daughter. I love watching the older kids with her. They are so kind and try to take such good care of her.
This morning while I was making pancakes, YaYa started washing dishes OF HER OWN ACCORD. She washed as many as she could until the water ran out and we couldn't start the pump because the power was out. It's still out. We still have no water. Then she cleaned the counter off a bit, helped Solo get dressed, and swept the kitchen floor. I could barely believe what was happening to me. Have I died, and gone to heaven?
So much of parenting occurs in this "One day at a time," way, but then there are these glimmers, you know? They take your breath away. Kid A's laugh and his face stretched in a smile, YaYa seeing that I needed help and giving me a hand, Solo's modifiers, Leafy's sweet magic.
Anyhow, not to worry. I'm still here. Busy, and quiet, but still here.