It didn’t feel like a rush this morning, I didn’t feel pushed out the door, or hurried. But by the time we were ready to go, I realized we had been going and not stopping for a long old time. We walked and we cooked and we cooked again and we changed diapers and packed and checked on the chickens and moved things and cleaned and swept and tidied and wrote notes and wrapped gifts and futzed with Christmas gifts and sang songs and then we got in the car and left and it was one.

We made it to where we were going before the sunset, and that was a near thing. We ate loads of food and we met Roby’s cousin, he makes Roby look real big. Real, real big. And she is big, she’s a big kid. I don’t think she’s especially big for her age or anything, she’s just big, bigger than she was. It’s fascinatin to watch and to have contexts grow and change and shift, parallax. 

Being away from home is nice, this is the first evening of six, and I’m already a little nervous. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Our neighbors are on the case, they’re checking on the chickens, the heater’s on, it’ll be fine. But in my mind, the animal part of it, everything I love is over in that house. It doesn’t much matter that I know they’re all here, that Abby and Roby are up stairs, and Archie’s here on this couch. 

The rest of the people I love are all taken care of, Scout by Mia, mia by herself, and most of the rest taking care of themselves, capable of surviving in this kushy century. But Roby and Abby and Archie and those chickens and that house are mine to take care of. And take care of them I will, here or there, now or then.