It’s the last quiet day on campus – frosh week will turn the place into a screaming mad house beginning Tuesday. I like the campus better with the students here -- they are so young and smart and vulnerable and sad and shining -- but it is good to have a quiet day once in a while.
Vivian and I spent most of lunch on the patio. She nursed. Her word for nurse is (unfortunately) “chew.” I have tried to talk her out of it, but she knows what it means, and I know what it means, and that makes it (in her opinion) a good word. Anyway, she was sweet
today, climbing into my lap and cuddling and murmuring “Chew? Chew?” We’re trying to give up our lunch nurse, but who can refuse such a face?
She fell asleep in the bright sun, so I tented my cardigan over her fair little head and held her on my chest while I lay on a bench and stared at the sky. It was clear and turquoise; the sun hot but the air cool, as I remember it being on mountain tops.
I love her so much, and the world – so why am I filled with such thick paralyzing sadness?
