I’d thought today that I would lay out something simple, beautiful, because in keeping a blog-as-journal, there should be some space for just journal keeping, just laying down a memory, because I have a terrible one, and there are things to be remembered, to return to, when the mind can’t.
what I’ve wanted to record is the minor adventures of my older son and I. Because we were consumate early risers (not entirely by choice but driven by personal biology, brains hardwired to agitated trains of thought), we took trips to the parking lot around our old apartment complex to look at the moon. I don’t know how it started–oh, wait, yes. it may have been an oversized moon, some time when the relationship between the moon and the earth was such that the moon was larger than usual (and I found this out how? facebook. I almost think this is not the case, that in fact, I came across the moon while running to the car, and then took my son out with me, but see? here we are less than a month or so later, and the memory is stripped)
But the point was not the particulars, but what feels like magic, showing a three year old celestial bodies. Sharing the quiet of 5AM, the dark of it, his glee at the bright fat moon and stars.
Frequently, leaving, he will tell the inanimate objects we have been discussing (trees, tables rocks, stars) good bye or good night.
Yesterday we ran in the park near our new home, and today in the house, over and over again attacking one another.