Another georgeous November day. Who wouldda thought? The grass is still green in my backyard and for the second day in a row, I shared a croissant sandwich and cup of soup with my husband before he headed to to tech rehearsals. It still feels new to me to have the boys gone in the day. It's so quiet. You'd think I'd be more productive, and... I am to an extent... but I'm more aware of the time and think it will take longer to pass than it does.
This week I have embarked back onto playwriting. It is good and tough, both.
The last of the leaves finally blew away last night with warm wind from the south -- an unusual thing.
The boys are still hyped on Halloween candy, and even Dave is craving "heavy meals late at night" to come down from rehearsals. He's funny, because those urges are rare in him. He got to sleep in this morning and was a big lump until we went for a crisp walk together. Again... no boys. So quiet. I miss them.
So, every day I write in my play, my hope to blog (even a tiny bit) first.
ACK! --I'm just back from an urgent call from the school saying my boys were not on the bus. !!!!!!
What? The lady said someone picked them up. --This was not supposed to happen as Dave and I were both here. Fright choked my throat as I said, "Well, that would be bad." [So articulate.] Then she said, "Oh, they might be on the wrong bus. I'm hearing the district had them line up differently." [Brilliant.] Well, that was better than the wrong person picking them up, but still not very comforting. Finally she asked for the bus drivers cell, and called: Yes. The boys WERE on the bus, safe and sound... it's just that the school records said they weren't. THANK GOD. I hated that emotional scare.
I'm so flighty now. I can't hardly write.
I'm like the leaf in the wind and I want to be the tree.
I need a fresh wind, but I must stay grounded.
So, to quote Henry W. Longfellow: "Blow breath of inspiration blow" just like the wind that whipped through our town and brushed away the clouds in today's blue, blue sky. Bring me breath of song and a heart for long suffering. And forgiveness for silly schools who follow paper rather than flesh and blood.
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