And I am the last place you should look.
Some of the children are asleep, some are awake, the television is going in the next room, and cold pizza rules the counter. A cat purrs on a boy’s backpack on the floor of the kitchen. It’s the night before a day off from real life. It’s the night before a storm. It’s the night before we spend a day preparing for a trek over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house. We are all tired, except for Luca, who is never tired. Luca is turning continuous somersaults on the living floor, only stopping when someone shows aggravation. Then he whispers “sorry” and dives into his iPod to check in with a friend at the other end of the endless Internet. A minute later he forgets and the somersaults start again. Until someone sighs and he whispers “sorry” and reports on his iPod to Laura/Seth/Brian/Natalie that his mother is intolerant and grouchy. Tomorrow we cook, we bake, we search floors and couches and shelves for Barno’s tablet so the three-hour ride over the river and whatnot won’t be…difficult. I know there is glory in limiting screen time, just not on traveling days when the snow is likely to require all the adult attention. Tomorrow we pack a ridiculous amount of crackers into a canvas bag. Tomorrow we navigate the complex process of acquiring snow tires, olive oil, and cream for coffee. Tomorrow, we go without coffee until cream can be acquired, which means having to function well enough to get the cream to drink the coffee to function well enough to get the cream to drink the coffee… Tomorrow there will be failure. But, also, Rice Krispie treats! And sweet potatoes boiling on the stove top! And music, from the living room where the guitars hang waiting, from the toy room where the piano patiently sits, from the CD player in the hall which has suffered such abuse these past ten years and still admits no defeat, except when sometimes we need to employ a knife to pry it open. Tomorrow will buzz with check-list energy. Tonight, we are tired. Except for Luca.