Back home, between the last of the summer trips, and glad to be here. Eli's trying to dribble a full-sized basketball between his four-year-old sized legs, and sticking with it, despite the impossibility. Leeli is sound asleep and almost one. Suzy is on the tire swing under the shade of the swing set, thinking and mumbling thoughts and imaginations. Her words never stop. Isaac is a vampire or a t-rex - he can't decide. His fangs are the outer tongs of a plastic fork, whose inner tongs are surely the newest of our house's perpetual supply of clutter. And for the moments when all we can do is long for the day of All Shall be Well, there are these, the blessed foretastes.
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