I do not have very long to write. These days are taken up with the sun and the swim and the invitations to the homes of friends. I would not for the most part note them, except that for the first time, my children participate at the front.
It seems I did not raise them with the proper respect for standing just at the shadows and observing. Yesterday while this younger son slept in a stroller, Caprice helped to play pirate on a climbing apparatus with the elder son. And Lark and Whimsy clamour for when they will be able to swim, and not merely watch.
I am bemused. I was never a child, and while I have observed and played with all my children, including those of the flesh, I have never been able to appreciate it in the way I do just now. It silences me somewhat, not because I lose my perspective but merely because I do not wish to insist upon it. This body remembers also the other.
Ah, I blame Magdalena for the start. But now there will be others to blame.
I am glad cara mia is gone. Not for myself; I would welcome him back. But for this, yes. Cast apart from the smallness of containment, it is wild and free. The wild is something which he and I always encouraged, but the free, it seems, took us apart.