only witches

It's been raining for three days and my skull buzzes like a radio between stations. Constant gray drizzle makes it suddenly difficult to recall individual days of summer. Their residue is mostly a feeling: it wasn't not happiness. 

Neither is this.

Inside more and learning virtually there is a strange, simultaneous abundance and total lack of time. Thinking about what school is and isn't, what this winter will and will not be, is such a process of what's best right now rather than what's best. 

Sometimes the house is quiet for a split second, or the wet leaves glitter through the window. Stacks of books, and peace, grow incrementally. The air is charged with static, but also with music and blessings. Days march forward, the rain wavers but the boys go steadily. They are alive in the real world, raking leaves and catching crane flies, free to find out who they are and already experts at making us all laugh.