Spiraling back

I'm feeling a bit better.  The slope, gentle as it may be, is upward.

Then, I feel a sudden compression.  Whole body.  Head down, tailbone up, ears in, shoulders in, hips in.  Blood starting to pound as veins narrow and tighten.  Everything becoming a wall, and because I can't get very far from Star Wars raising these boys, for some comic relief, the image of the gang in the trash compactor comes to mind.

Pressure.  My brain gasps, my heart skips a beat.

Then, I remember my childhood recurring nightmare.  Walking along a driven snow white picket fence, entering a house that contains a bloody, wet, red organ, pumping and pumping.  It's a heart with vines of veins so dark they appear black. 

The house is dark as a moonless night and the heart is so very red.

It's grotesque.  The sight is deafening.

The end of history

I feel your sorrow chasing tomorrow
There is no distance in your absence
If you call the monsters they will appear
Like I disappear
Blackout
There is resistance behind enemy lines
There goes the hatred bursting through the fabric
If you call the monsters they will appear
Like I disappear
Blackout
You are here
You are here
You are here

A song by Fionn Regan.  No good video clip so just lyrics today.  Wish sound could be shared as easily as images in this world wide web of ours.

Blue

My healer had a serious health crisis and has been out of commission for over a month now.  I think I thought he was invincible.  Because I still can't quite get my head around the fact that he almost died.

It seems totally unreal.

During this time, the effects of my repro hormonal spikes and drops have been intense and hard.  

I first thought it was a coincidence.  As I approach menopause (I think?  I hope?), things have gone unpredictably loopy from time to time and I chalked it up to that.

Then, I thought that the tough intensity was explained by my tuning into the 'disturbance in the Force', if you will, in my energetic connection with my healer.

Now, I am thinking that not getting my weekly tune-ups, combined with the dwindling of my Chinese herbal intake, Chinese tea consumption, and Qigong practice, are all increasing the power of the vortex sucking me down.

'Cause baby, I feel blue.

And hazily dazed.

Barely tethered in the ether.

Mad men

This season of Mad Men is killing me.  The writing is lean and lyrical, the visuals are rich and engaging, the performances are nuanced and layered...  I cannot say enough about how deeply satisfying these episodes are.  So much payoff for folks who have been watching from the start.

I'm brimming with arty hormonal emotion.  Off to pick up the kids and then on to a me-included play date.

Alan's War

Stunned and breathless.  This book is amazing.  Run, do not walk, and read it.

Miles two ways

Trying to pare down my Slipping Into September playlist.  Two Miles Davis pieces are speaking to me and I think they will both stay. The other one, Just Squeeze Me, is not available via YouTube clip.

Numerology

Who knows anything about numerology?

image pulled from web.

My destiny number is 3 and look what I found:

A Destiny number of 3 shows that you are meant to utilize creativity and optimism in life. Part of your job in life is to help other people realize the power of joy, laughter, and imagination. By helping others who may have lost the joy of living learn to appreciate life and live it to its fullest (and most joyful) you will find your own joy and fulfillment. Expressing yourself creatively is key to making this happen.

Interesting...

Are you out there

Seeing my (fir)e in the dark when I lay my head down for the night.  My breath can't reach and contracts back supertight.  The day's flavor is called Inspiration or Illusion depending on the ingredients available for the cellular chemical cocktail.  (Perhaps I am a miscreation...)

After hibernating my soul for a week in favor of scraping away at the detritus clinging to my space yesterday hours in Tiina's sunny kitchen and today lunch with Elizabeth.  A walk amongst the gusts while converting Vitamin D sounds heavenly.

Tonoharu was like stepping back into a memory bath.  Not every experience is the same for an AET, but there sure is a common thread.  Started Alan's War in the quiet before anyone else was out of bed.  Could have easily spent the day with this book.  Later.

To-reads

I haven't been reading much lately.

Two more graphic novels have come into the reading basket via the library.  The long weekend signaling the change of season seems a good time to take a pause and curl up on the couch some (even if said couch has a cover that could really use a wash).

I love graphic novels.  

They pack no less of a punch than their non-illustrated counterparts when done well (and, of course, a novel can suck...not being a graphic novel is no guarantee of potential 'betterness'), they take less time to read/are easier to read more quickly, and if you connect with the artwork, on top of the story, the alchemy is amazing.

Clint comes to mind

The Good:

The kids hanging out on the phone with Malachi and talking at length about Pokemon.  They haven't spoken in about a year.  They haven't seen each other in four-plus.  There's nothing like the instant reconnect of old friends.

The Bad:

It has barely rained today, Earl is too far east of us.  The air hangs heavy with moisture and heat.  I'm assuming this is low pressure I'm feeling.  Weighed down big time.

The Ugly:

My language becomes foul as I deal with the children of dregs.  Al.  most.  done.

Got student loans?

Go here for a stunning account of what it means to have a student loan (or know/love someone who does).

Redwood love

I've loved trees for as long as I can remember.  The redwoods found in the northwest U.S. are very special.  Donna gave me this card for my birthday.  It was one of my favorite gifts this year.  Every time I hold it, part of me falls right into the photo and I connect to a direct line of strength, peace and breath.

photo taken by Larry Ulrich.

I don't know why I've never thought of using card photos for my blog banner before...

For you

I love this dude's voice.  Raul Malo is his name.  Been listening to the studio version of this song lately and it's unstoppable. I can understand the "rough" quality of this video. I would not have been able to stand still while they were performing this either!

Holy dna!

I'm trying not to get too distracted by the old photographs and nice cards I am sifting through.  

But, when I saw the one above, of the kids with Malachi, I had to scan it and upload it to Facebook so Erika and Jerry could see it.  The kids are finally going back to Sacramento for a visit in February (their first time since we moved four years ago) and we are really looking forward to seeing old friends.

Once the flurry of initial emotion died down, I did a double take.  Sag happened to join me at the computer just then and I asked him: do you think you look like someone in that photograph?  His already wide smile (he really can't wait to see Malachi again) grew even wider and he said, "Cousin L".

Can't explain it

...I just love this tune.

The good

I'm lucky.  Good things have been happening as a result of my end-of-summer cleaning and despite the evolutionary rate of my development in this area.

•  I've been listening to my 2000+ song iTunes library on shuffle and have (re)discovered some gems.  They're being compiled into my 'Slipping Into September' playlist which looks like this so far:

I Should Have Known Better / She & Him

While You Were Gone / The Combinations    

Brother Lee / Citizen Cope   
We Get Along / Let's Go Sailing

A Donde Sea / Julieta Venegas  

Trane's Blues / Miles Davis

The Trapeze Swinger / Iron & Wine

Dulce Compañía / Julieta Venegas

For You / Raul Malo

When Will I See You Again / Marcia Griffiths

• I found my iPod Shuffle.  The one I thought I had thrown away because I could not for the life of me get it to work about a year ago.  I played with it for a bit and, lo and behold, got it to work again.  I have no idea how or why other than to think that the latest version of iTunes had something to do with it.  Good thing I hadn't thrown it away!

• I am modeling to the kids that sometimes you just have to do things that are tedious.  And that good things can come from it.  Once a season, I make them empty their bins and they trash/recycle things they no longer want.  It's almost exclusively personal artwork that they keep in there.  Yesterday afternoon they got in on the action with me.

• I'm making real progress.  Even a year ago, I would not have had the mental strength/stamina to go like this for three days running.  Something would have tripped me up and I would have re-dumped things into new bags and bins and abandoned the project.  (That's how I had stuff from 2007 still hanging about.)

 

I've gone through all the bags and boxes.  The first round of trashing/recycling is done.  I am now clearing out drawers and shelves.  And then, as I reorganize the space I now have, round two will begin.  As long as the space allows, things with function/meaning will stay, borderline things will go.

we made the first cut.

• New corners like this one:

• Opened up space like this:

The Hallowell article

I've had an article by Ed Hallowell in my things since graduate school.  When I first read it, nearly 20 years ago, I saw the piece as something special.  It was just so damned practical, clear, non-judgmental, and written for and about a (still) under-diagnosed population: adults with ADD/ADHD.

The article has survived numerous moves, my personal exit from the field, and my gradual shedding of my 'professional' collection of books and articles pertaining to special education.

The piece is that good.

And it has found its way before me again.  This time as I flicked open old files one manila folder after another and the kids' "reuse" paper basket level rose and rose.  I started reading and came to a shuddering halt when I read this (from the 'Insight and Education' section):

"Understand that you are drawn to high stimuli.  Try to choose them wisely, rather than brooding over the "bad" ones."

I'm keeping this article handy.  And hope to take another look at those books I ordered awhile ago.  It's remarkable reading things about one's self that turn on a light of warm understanding :-)

You can find 50 Tips On The Management Of Adult Attention Deficit Disorder online, here.

When will I see you again

Ultimate dreams

I found a list I made in December of 1998 as part of a yoga class.  My "Ultimate Dreams", which I had to list with specifically dated deadlines.  (Turned out the yoga center was run by folks who were way into The Forum.)

I thought it was interesting to see which dreams were realized.  Only one so far :-)

Have a baby or adopt a child by January 1, 2000.

Visit New Mexico by August 31, 2003.

Wake up to a view of the ocean every day by August 31, 2023.

Visit Finland by December 31, 2008.

What would (insert name here) do?

My first pair of shoes dipped in copper and mounted on a base which has slots on the back to slide a picture frame into.  (The frame is long gone.)

I can't bring myself to dump it into the garbage bag, but this is exactly the kind of shit memorabilia that whoever survives my passing into the great beyond is going to have sift through and then throw out.

Dregs

Not much reflective writing happening here lately.  Sorry.

At the moment I am dragging out dealing with these dregs here.  Of bag #2 (bag #1 and box #1 dealt with yesterday, bags #3 and #4 and box #2 and #3 lie in waiting).

I hate the dregs and the dregs hate me.  (Click to embiggen for dust bunnies and stray hairs.)

I know my troubles are so nothing when the day's albatross is dealing with this.  Sorry.

Would a professional say at this point, "dump it"?  I feel compelled to sort it all out.  To return the objects to where they belong.

One last thing: in "dealing" with these bags and boxes, I'm actually only getting as far as recycling and trashing as appropriate.  The things to be put back somewhere are going back into new bags.  

I've miles to go.

A dream of trees

A Dream of Trees by Mary Oliver

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, schools, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company.
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere.

There is a thing in me still dreams of trees,
But let it go. Homesick for moderation,
Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.
If any find solution, let him tell it.
Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation
Where, as the times implore our true involvement,
The blades of every crisis point the way.

I would it were not so, but so it is.
Who ever made music of a mild day?

Black tie beach

(click on the lower right hand corner of the vid to watch it at YouTube.)

Inside the pupa

I'm doing the (for me) hard work of going through bags and boxes of mostly paper, mostly crap that have piled up since the new year (yup, as in January).  It's tedious.  And enervating.  And even though I want to do it, I kinda just want to ignore it, too.

It's discouraging finding "to be filed" papers from 2008.  And, ahem, 2007.  (Slips and packets carried over from one "organizing" to the next.)  The insurance card for the car that we just reordered because it turns out we've been driving around for nearly 11 months without proof of insurance?  I found it a half hour ago.

I've been reading and learning and talking about decluttering and living simply for a couple of years now.  And I am slowly figuring out ways to lighten my life.  One method I have come back to, in my mind, over and over again, is to simply dump these bags and boxes of stuff in the trash.  To let it all go in one fell swoop.  (To have instantly cleared surfaces and corners in my living space?  Yes, please.)

I'm not there yet, and this may never be something I can do.  Because as much as I agree with the theory that if you haven't used it in a year then you truly don't need it, I also agree with keeping the things that you find beautiful...those objects that bring you true joy.

And when I go through my crap, inhaling dust and running down the immune systems of not only myself, but my family...every now and again, I find something like this:

Dancing Flames by Gyoshu Hayami, 1925.

The momentary mix of a rushing release of happy hormones with a distinct feeling of being woven right into the fabric of the Universe...it's a one fell swoop of a different sort and, frankly, the kind that sustains me and what I search for unconsciously with every breath I take.

Jóga

All these accidents,
That happen,
Follow the dot,
Coincidence,
Makes sense,
Only with you,
You don't have to speak,
I feel.

Emotional landscapes,
They puzzle me,
Then the riddle gets solved,
And you push me up to this

State of emergency,
How beautiful to be,
State of emergency,
Is where I want to be.

All that no-one sees,
You see,
What's inside of me,
Every nerve that hurts,
You heal,
Deep inside of me,
You don't have to speak,
I feel.

Emotional landscapes,
They puzzle me - confuse,
Then the riddle gets solved,
And you push me up to this

State of emergency,
How beautiful to be,
State of emergency,
Is where I want to be.

Etc.

Acorns

The acorns have started dropping.  We live amidst a few oak trees that are crane-your-neck tall.  So these little suckers pack a wallop when they hit the roof of the porch which is right out my window where I type.  Or the top of an air conditioner, or the driveway (any hard surface...you get the picture, or rather, the sound effect).  Remarkably, I've never gotten plunked on the head by an acorn.  Maybe this year's my year.

The annual falling of the acorns is a signal.  The random, yet organic, bounces and beats are meditative in an ADDish sort of way.  But, this morning, in my sleep deprived state I can hear the Siren of the coming season permeating the space between the beats.  Getting incrementally louder and insistent.

Here comes the wave of melancholia.

Bedtime blessing

A star for you to wish upon, the sun so warm and bright, the moon for you to dream upon, pleasant dreams my love, good night.  

I'm like... (NSFW)

This song/video is getting some buzz and rightly so, in my opinion.  It's hilarious and wonderful.  Cee Lo's voice is so warm, rich and inviting.  His old school sensibilities served up with a twist of now tickles my brain.

Ear candy

Put the 2000+ iTunes on shuffle and have been (re)discovering some treats.  Like "While You Were Gone" by The Combinations.  You can listen to it here on NPR.

Subway dream

Last night I had a dream.  Notable because I can actually still remember it though the details are fast fading even as I type.  (I took a few minutes to look for an image of the subway which contributed to the dilution, but I saw some interesting shots...love googling.)

I was in the NYC subway.  And somehow I dropped my bag and coat onto the tracks.  It was an accident of the flukey sort.  The track well was dry and clean (not the track wells of my childhood) and I had a strong feeling that all could be well so easily if only I could retrieve my belongings.

I called out to a worker for help and she, in turn, called out to another worker.  This second worker, also a woman, came to talk to me.  She informed me it would not be as simple as I had hoped.  We could hear the rumbling of oncoming trains.

I was discouraged.  Then, encouraged as a train pulled into the station on another track, but then discouraged again as a train rolled in on the track my stuff was on.

The dream held such sway that I dreamt about it again later in my sleep.  I was relaying what happened, that I had dropped my things onto the track, to someone.  I took the situation in stride.  There was clarity in the inevitability, as opposed to any sense of fatalism.  

Also, as I retold the story in my next, or continued, dream, I could see in my mind's eye my things were still there, unmussed, unharmed...to be collected at any time, upon my return to the scene.  Now that I am awake, I still feel this potential.

And that's a good thing.

Preserving

The obvious: overrun with peachy summer bounty this morning was devoted to the task of washing, peeling, slicing, weighing, bagging and freezing.  (The practical arts can be lonely.)

The amorphous: I thought the kitchen scale was passed down by my mother.  Curious, I googled.  The French manufacturer did not begin exporting internationally until the late 80s and early 90s.  It is still possible that I plucked this scale from Mom at some long ago time.  But, it is no longer possible, as I originally wondered, that this is a scale that she used when I was a youngster.

The Photographer

I heard about this graphic novel from Lolly of Lolly Knitting Around.  She is one of my contacts on Goodreads and I have gotten a bunch of solid recommendations for books by following her.

Reading the introduction was illuminating and intense.  A condensed history of Afghanistan which taught me a thing or two.

I'm looking forward to reading this.  (Check out the link in my "Reading Basket" on the sidebar.)

The shadows

digging the shadows lately.

It's the light.  Sixty plus days past the Summer Solstice and the light is starting to take on my favorite seasonal quality.

T

tantrum turned tranquil.

The boy was throwing a huge hissy fit in the park on a gorgeous late August morning.  

After a pleasant excursion to the library (loot: a classic Peanuts collection) Mom decided to detour to the park for a quick stroll before heading home to lunch.  So they walked, brother and friend up ahead and unfazed.  Geese hanging about.  The playground overflowing with shrieking sunny children.  Workers resting in the shade.  A lone jogger circling round and round.

The boy cried.  He hung and swung about on Mom's bag and arm.  Occasionally, he screamed.  He called her a liar.  And continued to walk.  Every time Mom quietly asked if he wanted to hold her hand death grip released and dead weight shifted to reach for her hand.

Brother and friend broke away to take a short cut across the hot grass.  They agreed to wait for them on the bridge.

The boy stayed close and turned the volume down as he realized they were on the return arc.  That was when Mom saw the T.  They stopped to inspect this favorable, if peculiar, sight.  T is the first letter of the boy's name.  Mom's delight was contagious and he started to smile.

In the park

I'm ready for my close-up.

Yesterday we went to our local park day and met up with homeschoolers old and new.  It was gorgeous out and I gingerly stepped out of my summer pupa.  I lay on my Basha blanket (she who has recently moved to Oregon!) and fell into the sky and leaves for awhile.

On the nose

exactly the kind of moment that makes my day.

Girly love

Thanks to Shannon for turning me on to this site via Facebook (a little plug for those of you not connected that way...yet :-)

This test film is so cool for a variety of reasons.  But, the reason I am slapping it on here is because I love love love the hat with the falling cherries briefly featured in it.  They just don't make 'em like that anymore...

What's coming

 

 

that's what I'm talking about.

I love this.  

The visual aspect is really working for me.  The boundaries that the colors and the boxes provide transform feeling overwhelmed by mental information to a more peaceful state.  

Seeing is believing and I can literally see what is possible here.

Color me sated

I just color coded my Google calendar (through December) and found the experience unexpectedly and extraordinarily satisfying.

My 9 calendars in 1:

Me - light red

Chores - tangerine

Company - pink

Cap - dark blue

Errands - sea green (anyone remember that old school Crayola color?)

Family Activity - purple

Kids stuff - grassy green

Cap and me time - dark red

Special days (birthdays and the like) - lavender

Lotus

The lotus has been on my mind.  Not so much as a thought, but as inspiration/aspiration.  

(And remembered as reanimated respiration, revitalized and renewed.)

What is inspiring you lately?

P.S.  My body continues to slog through the mud of female plumbing issues.  I am trying to rest and being wakeful to the experience without feeling guilty about my utter lack of energy.

Mr. Pond's new video

There's a new video for a song off of Dark Leaves, matt pond PA's latest cd.  The song is called Remains and the video can be seen here (for I don't know how long).  I love it.  Enjoy.

"If you remain in me, I will remain in you."

Chair

We got this chair, one of four, in Arlington...or maybe Waltham.  Back when we lived in Cambridge.  Before the kids were born.  I think it was called a coffee house chair.  A coffee house chair was a good match for us.  We like to have people over to talk.  Though it's more likely to be over tea than coffee.

These days the chairs are at our big table where more than anything, they are used by children who are drawing, cutting, writing, talking, envisioning, imagining.  Sometimes they are used by us and our friends when we host common meal.  Sometimes they are used when we are celebrating a birthday or a holiday, with a crowd.  Sometimes they are used by Cap or me when we have paper work that requires spreading out.  Sometimes they are used by friends and family playing board games.  Or putting together 1000 piece puzzles.

One of the chairs, they inevitably get rotated when I vacuum, is always stationed at the desk.  Where my behind is so often planted as I write and read and share and communicate.  I am sitting on one now.

Somethin' 'bout the way

...he reads.  There's something about him in this state that captivates me.

Shrug

I've been released from the particularly long PMS storm and am now bobbing in the Sea of Meh.  The tension has released.  My body went from feeling like a wet noodle last night to a leaden mass this morning.  My mind?  Dull, dull, dull.

Outside, it rains again.

We have a new family activity.  We're watching The Great Food Truck Race on Food Network and enjoyed an episode last night.

Next time I see my mom, I am picking up her two old PC laptops.  One will be for me and one for the kids.  The newer of the two, which I am claiming, was having technical issues around internet connectivity.  I'm hoping to get that cleared up.

Finished The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.  It was entertaining and a fast read.  Jamie brought me the second book in the trilogy to borrow, so I think I'm going to dive right into it.  I am enjoying learning about a culture and country I don't know much about (Sweden).  A word of warning, the book gets into some grisly and graphic territory (a theme that threads through the novel is violence against women in Sweden).

Hope your day is better than 'meh'.  But, if it isn't, remember, this too shall pass.

Morning feet

Putting away dishes and making us breakfast, my son's total comfyness with life caught my eye and I snapped a few shots.

On to the mumble:

• Cap worked on my shoulders and neck last night...they had gotten bad (and he reassured me that he would be careful not to use his thumb)...I can feel them tightening back up this morning.  I do feel like I have a newish lease on life thanks to those elbows.  Thank you, my dear.

• The apartment feels like a sealed climate controlled vacuum again.  Disgustingly muggy out.

• Meal plan done, food shopping not done.

• House work tasks piling up.  It's not drudgery if I don't think of it that way.  Right?

• Yesterday's thinking of getting an iPad (with Cap's blessing, yo) seeming less of a good idea this morning.

• I think I missed the Emmy's...which I usually do...but I kinda wanted to watch them this year.  Oh well.

• Watched last week's POV with Sag yesterday afternoon after Jamie left.  He was drawing, I was folding laundry, Gem was at Daniel's and Cap was writing in the next room.  It was a collection of short documentaries on varied and interesting topics.

• Feeling good (on a dimly lit level with the general cacophony in my mind at the moment) about being somewhat more organized and in flow: our drivers licenses are renewed, our car inspected, our registration renewed, our car insurance paid for (now we hope and pray the car stays healthy), the kids are signed up for a 2D animation art class at the museum art school, and I have this week mostly clear of social commitments in order to tackle the tasks that are piling up.

Two more days

For about five days now the fish I am minding till Monday (or the Universe help me, Tuesday) has spent most of its time in this corner of its world stock still.  (In this shot he is not as 'flat' as he usually looks because he was aware of my presence and fluttering his fins some.)

It's been creeping me out, and truthfully, it's been a little stressful.  Sometimes I imagine his water is not as clean as I think it is and that he is starving for oxygen.  Other times I think he's found his local opium den.

If someone gets close or feeds him, he will swim about vigorously (one person's vigorous being another person's frantic...), so that's something.  But, before you know it, he's back, very still, in his spot.

I joked, soon after Apollo's arrival, that I hoped he wouldn't die on my watch.  I have realized in the two months since, that this is no joke for me.  I can't wait for Apollo's mistress to take him back.  And then, no more fish sitting for me, ever again.

Please, little fish...whose age I don't really know, whose gender I don't really know, whose state of being I don't really know...just stay alive for two more days and then release me from my own personal pet sitting angst!

Mid-morning

Cap and I were at the DMV just after 8am.  Luckily, the kids snoozed at home under Jamie's loving eye.  I brought my camera, but was not too inspired as we stood in line and waited and waited.

Ninety minutes later we had our renewed licenses in hand, the car was emission tested, and we took advantage of our godmother-in-residence.  A leisurely breakfast at one of my favorite local eateries. 

Bliss.

Kizuna

...a Japanese word/term which means connection fused through shared time and experience.

Hum

Hearing every hum.  The fan as I came to because my stomach was aching dully.  The insects as they play their summer drone.  (Happy to have windows open again.)  The fish tank mechanism which keeps the water moving and somewhat fresh as organic matter builds up again.  The cars swooshing by with more frequency as the clocks round eight.  Infinity sideways.

My last two appointments with Dr. V. have been canceled.  I'm attempting to bumble along.

I was gobsmacked yesterday out of the blue with a recurring concern: the privacy of my children with all the blogging that I do.  Specifically, the pics.  I'm thinking on what I want to do, I feel a change is coming.

Began reading The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo yesterday.  And found myself bopping over to the computer at the end of each chapter to google various Swedish and/or Eurocentric words.  This tickled me.  I'm enjoying the book so far and find it interesting that I thought the main character was a teenager.  She's not!

Feeling like a pupa.  A pupa within a pupa.  There's plenty of hum within.  Hormonal, viral, organic, toxic.  A mix gutty, as opposed to, heady.  This kind of heavy internal churning takes and slows energy, yet, of course, time marches on.  The people and events on my calendar/in my physical space keep me tethered to the here and now.  How I feel is paradoxical: grateful for the connection despite a longing to be left alone.

Summer nights

I remember playing chess with the boy across the street as the day's light filtered in through the window screen rapidly fading.

Will they remember playing Lego games with the Red Sox broadcast as their background music?

The hushed voices punctuated by sparks of animation: the same.  The heads hovering together over a board in concentration: the same.  The camaraderie of children connected before bouncing off into separate adulthoods: the same.