Monday: Shaya and Eliana pushed kid-sized carts at Hiller’s while I checked items off my list. It was by the British foods that the novelty wore off and Shaya melted down. I lifted him into my cart and convinced Eliana to walk alongside.
At the bakery, Eliana picked pink cupcakes with candies in the frosting and little ones with plastic rings of Eyeore, Winnie the Pooh and Tigger for the boys. I bought a blueberry one with cream cheese frosting for my sister, but she never ate it.
It was Asher’s first day of school.
Tuesday: Invigorating conversation and absolutely serene silence. A perfect 12 hours. Really.
Wednesday: The day began with silence and ease. Work, work and then some. A clean house. A productive team.
After school, I took the children to Nordstrom to buy shoes. Kids nicked at balloons whose weights held them on the ground. Shaya took off his shoes and ran around barefoot on the carpet, removing every single shoe from the displays and squealing with delight.
I was one of those customers salespeople hate, indignant and complaining to the first attitude-laden saleswoman, until a gentle woman replaced her. She spoke in tones that soothed me and I could speak softly again.
Asher chose red Converse sneakers and brown slip-on dress shoes. Eliana picked sequined, flowered, pink sneakers (of course) and black dress shoes with little high heels. Shaya needed no new shoes at all.
When I went to bed, Eliana was atop my blankets, her arms spread wide and her smooth legs on my pillow. A triumvirate of pink poodles and teddy bears congregated on one little square pillow. I carried her to her room.
Today: It is dark when I awake. And so I make coffee, pour water, turn on the music. I write and then I accomplish. On the kitchen table, the closed GMAT prep book and a stack of 3×5 cards. Upstairs, the children sleep. Somehow in the night, Eliana ended up beside me.
Tomorrow: Should I even contemplate it? All the things we might do? Maybe not. Maybe there is only right now.