We're walking up a path, the mountains on our backs. Sully is on his bike, the only one of us with wheels in this moment. He stops abruptly and abandons his bike in the middle of the light. Eric scoops it up and places it behind a tree. It's a wordless change of events. We keep moving. I feel a pull, the small weight on my shoulders turns me around and around and around. My focus is on the light and the sounds of family. I don't even have to mouth grateful, blessed. Those words are worn on me, polished on my heart like the insides of smooth pink shells. My prayer has shifted from What do I need? to This is all I need.
I circle around Theo in the kitchen. I am making a cup of peppermint tea. He is writing in his journal about a loose tooth that is bothering him. He is hungry, he tells me. He is afraid to eat because what if he swallows his tooth? what then. Mostly I am only listening. And then he looks at me and I hear the words, each one, spill out of his mouth and expand like the big blue ocean. There are so many stories to write, Mom.