Oh, my. I awoke at six this morning to the luscious, chilly air of my new air conditioning unit and the harp-setting on my iPhone alarm. It's been a long while (a whole season) since I've felt that cold and heard that early harp...
I was groggy, but still overtly excited. It's my first-grader's first day of school today. All his supplies wait in two bags by the front door. His book bag already holds his snack for the day and his lunch money. His clothes are laid out for him...all that's left to do is wake him up. But I linger over my hot mug of coffee, listening to the birds outside telling me that they've been up for ages...and asking me where I have been all summer.
It's 9:15, and the child has been in school for exactly one hour and forty five minutes. I've come home, hung up all of his brand new little shirts in his closet, made a breakfast of soft poached egg on buttered focaccia, and lit my favorite Nouvelle Mahogany and Tobacco Candle. I've listened to the quiet. I talked on the phone for an uninterrupted twenty minutes to a friend I haven't talked to in over two months. I've given the dogs wet dog food mixed in with their dry, which I only do on rare, special occasions. They're sleeping so soundly now that it reminds me of the days that I brought them home from the pound. Animals do that when you rescue them from confinement--all that barking and clanging of chain link and stainless steel food bowls--then, suddenly, the pronounced quiet of their own homes. They do a quick sniffing tour of the house, and then they curl up and sleep for a very long time. I'm sure they feel almost like that now, with the absent din of Spongebob Squarepants in the background and with the contentenment of full bellies.
It's almost 10:30, and I've taken my first pink dose from an industrial-sized bottle of Pepto. I used to get a sour stomach on the first day of school when I was a kid, but now I get one on HIS first day, too. I'm logical enough to know that it's all psychosomatic, but change makes still me (physically) sick.