Hidden in this last weekend were the first things that began to arrive as habit again. We naturally did things that people do, without some specter over us - we took naps, ran errands, told jokes, ate meals, etc. Our blessed return to the curse of normalcy.
I am exhausted, as is Rachel; we are lucky and tired. Rhys's school has not yet re-opened. We will juggle him around all week, a life lived as a fresh badminton shuttlecock. He will love this week, of course. His demeanor invites a level of unanticipated activity that ours now resists.
Wednesday is my birthday - 49 - so I will take the day off to spend it together with him. I can do more pushups than him, but only when done by my own rules. That boy can fly at will.
Later that same night we will all go into the city together. We have a hotel. There is a work event for Rachel that she wishes to attend in the early next morning. We will make a party out of what might have otherwise been a chore. I will bring the boy into the office with me on Thursday morning, truly amongst the proudest of fathers. I work for a very considerate and generous company; they have been fantastic through this, and well before.
Sometimes it is the intangibles that separate happiness from misery, other times it all means less than nothing. Preparing yourself for both or either runs one down. Families don't often like to gamble, but people do.
Consequences put everything to a test.
It is equal to nothing; why must we still feel so.
Fall has arrived in full. We took snapshots in the backyard, playing around with the built-in filters on the Fuji camera. I was assessing Fuji's opinions of their own film stock, how those qualities can be simulated within the digits.
Taking focus of the cared for - varying patterns of light and color, shade and event.
We raked together a colored pile of the falling past to be jumped upon and into.
That, the angelic tangibles, the leaves.