Nap

I awakened to the view above. Held in suspended animation high above like in a cloud, Pete curled in the crook of my elbow.

A tiny voice calling below, "Books books books..."

I awoke perfectly blissful, perfectly at peace, perfectly rested and at perfect understanding with my place in the world. It was a little after three. Elise had taken great measures to construct a sanctuary of our bedroom, a nest high above in the trees or clouds to where we could escape. I often take this haven for granted, but relished its tranquility this afternoon.

I, also, feel suspended between two places. The past few days have been calm. I've done much of what can be done in preparation for the days and months to come, knowing that much will have to wait until the last hectic days (which is fine, that's how moving happens), so Sam and I go to the indoor play gym, go to the bookstore, go bowling with Elise and Peter and go to the park.

On a side note, Elise and Peter were on the bed in our room this morning. I was trying to get Sam out of the house to go to the park. He was on the bed reading 'Curious George' intermittently bouncing. I pulled him away ("You can't jump on the bed when Peter's on the bed") which resulted in a torrent of tears. He asked, "Blenx." (blankie). I responded, "You can't bring blankie to the park." He insisted. So, I acquiesced and we went into his room and retrieved his blankie from the crib. He used it to wipe away his tears. Immediately better, he tossed blankie back into bed. I choked up. Blankie had become a magical object that could sop up sadness and return the world to balance instantaneously. I forget that in a child's world such objects exist.

They exist in an adult's world, too....

Such is the power of a good nap.