at last

It was 1:30 when the lightning struck this morning waking me from a somewhat slumber. The rain outside could be heard sploshing heavily in  puddles that form near the house. A slim line of light could be seen running around the bedroom door. I was awake and someone had left a light on in the hallway. The assumption was that Natalie and Chuck had left it on before they went home for the evening. The assumption was wrong. They were in the 'guest' bedroom laying on the bed, watching the remainder of The Big Lebowski. Figgie was bundled onto the chair and a half in the living room, sleeping.  It is a large striped chair that so many people have sat on in the past eleven years. The chair that one child vomited on, that another child peed on, that various and sundry animals have sat on, scratched on and that boys and others have slept on. That chair. The chair and the couch which have moved with us from house to house and were bought at Rust and Martin twelve years ago, brand new, floor models, heavily discounted. The chair which tonight held the smallest little stranger yet to ever sleep on it. He, however,  is not a stranger.

Chuck disentangeled himself from Natalie and followed me into the kitchen asking if there was anything to eat. The refrigerator which used to be full, now sat half-empty. With only Dylan and I there hasn't been a need to have a large amount of extra food in the house. With 'no place to entertain', there haven't been boys and others wandering in and helping themselves to things from the fridge.Scarcely anyone has been over. Family and a few very close friends. Family...Chuck rummaged through the fridge and stated, "I know what I'll fix." He was thinking out loud of what he could prepare for Nat. The salad he made ended up being eaten only by him. She chose a hot pocket from the freezer, heated in the microwave. I joined them briefly at the table before they returned to the bedroom to finish watching the movie. Chuck asked if he might move in to the third bedroom for awhile. "Of course" was the answer, what can a mother say? Extenuating circumstances being what they are, extenuating circumstances....

And during these interchanges, Dylan slept in his room. Sick for the past two days, feverish, coughing. The little world we have established for ourselves, the nice opening up that has been going on over the past few months with this youngest son of mine. Well. We'll see. Chuck told me that he would pay rent. I told him to put that money into savings (and stop smoking).

It is three a.m. and as I sit here and write, the rain has stopped. The sound of distant thunder rolls somewhere off to the west and crickets can be heard outside. The house is still. The cats and children sleep.





Star at the window, old house.