Kim and Doug’s computer has a screensaver that is composed of photos of their family. They have only been together a year and a half, but I am amazed at the world they have created together. There is a photo of Kim in the delivery room, and she is holding Cary. Her smile is the most striking thing about the photo, wide, exposing perfect white teeth. Her eyes look directly in the camera and I want to hug her. Her brows are tipped up toward the sky, and worry crops up.
When you see how free, how loving, how wholly and sincerely adventurous a person is, it can make you feel one of two ways—either left behind in their tornado, or inspired. I think part of the difference is recklessness, an awareness of impending chaos and responsibility. Kim’s ability to change and adapt and move is handled with such grace that you can’t help but want to smuggle some of her energy for yourself.
Kim, Cary and I went into a birdwatching shop yesterday, a store I had never been into but Kim said was really cool. All of the sudden we have a date to take a birdwatching tour next month. I want to figure out what seeds will attract what birds to my fort. I want to sit down with Cary when he gets old enough and build a birdhouse. Tiny moves. We picked up Doug and when to the Caruthers Fair. Cary couldn’t take his eyes off the ferris wheel. I looked at kids walking past and guessed their names. I feel like I’ll never be ready.
I can barely take care of myself.
Tonight I’m going over to Jefferson and Tracy’s house. Jefferson calls me sometimes “just to say hi.” I don’t know anyone else
like that, but it’s charming. Calling someone just to talk to them. I am so conditioned to a phone being strictly utilitarian.