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2018-06-25 - 8:46 a.m.

always running, just to keep up

the baby is in his car seat. as i am driving, i can hear him playing "this little piggy" on his toes. his piggies go to the duck pool, the zoo, and the stop sign. he identifies his pinkie toe as a baby piggy and pretends to change its diaper.

my grandmother slipped on the cellar steps and fractured her spine. rather than focusing on actions that promote healing, she believes that acting like she is already healed will make it so. we've all been yoked to this same stubborn spirit.

now we are on vacation. my mom is recovering from a minor surgery, and my sister-in-law is in hospital for mysterious pains that came on in the night. i am sitting by the phone to wait for news. outside, my husband hovers over the baby, who throws sticks and rocks into the lake and pretends to play the drums.

* * *

reading: pilgrim at tinker creek. at first i was annoyed by how annie dillard kept paring down some facts to fit her narrative, and then i was delighted by how she circled back around to complicate the story with accuracy.
listening to: birdsong in the morning.
working on: drafting a knitting pattern for the baby's christmas present.
in the garden: i left the neighbor girl with instructions to run the hose. last summer, some squirrels bit holes in the hose, so i arranged my container plants all along these unintentional sprinklers.

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