A new trend in posting art work has emerged in our house. My son, snuggling with the cat, yelled from the next room asking that I take a picture and "post it online" so that everyone is Scotland could see him (and the cat). The last few pieces of art that have been created or brought home have been tacked up in front of a window facing out. The rationale is simple. Even though the window is not on the ground floor, this presentation method allows people "out there" to see the work. As preschool ends, and my son turns his face (and whole self) towards the mysterious prospects of big school, he is starting, little by little to unfold outwards. He steps towards a new phase, where I will have an incrementally decreasing share of a vantage point on his inner thoughts and feelings.
I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.
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