swinging back

There are so many naked ladies in our kitchen!

The flowers, guys. That's what they're called. And I cut them for vases like a crazy person, because they're gorgeous and they smell good. And because more than half our people are gone, all back to various schools, and I need some extra doses of happy around the house.

Neither of us are lonely. Hank and I are both perfectly content in each other's company. We find plenty to do, paint and play hot wheels, dress up in costumes and wash dishes.
Plus, it's like we can finally hear each other again. He has so much to say.

We walked to the library before heading down the hill for school pick up today. It was hot, so Hank looked for sprinklers where we could sneak relief, and pointed out naked ladies in neighbors' yards. The chocolate protein bar he chose to bring melted all over his hands and face, and if it hadn't been so sticky it may have been nearly imperceptible because his summer skin is already the color of dirt.
He asked me to pick a leaf from a tree, and clutched it all the way to the playground, where we found ourselves with a few minutes before the bell. Pushing him on the swing, my hand the size of his back, I relished the certainty that - these days - pushing away still means he’ll swing back every time.