Day 178: Imagination, Intuition

It seems like the whole Western U.S. is on fire - red skies at noon in San Francisco, whole towns burning, weeks of air quality so bad people are forced to stay inside. And yet, everything here in my little holler looks the same and it strikes me that this is another illustration of, "Just because you don't see something, it doesn't mean it's not real." COVID-19. Racial injustice. Climate change. Poverty. I've read a couple articles that have described how a lack of imagination is causing immense suffering. People unable to imagine themselves vulnerable to an invisible viral foe. White people unable to imagine what it would be like for police to be dangerous rather than a force for good. Rich people unable to imagine living a worse than paycheck to paycheck existence. Everyone unable to imagine the entire climate becoming upended because of their SUVs. Compassion requires imagination, and it seems we're sorely lacking in all those arenas. When things seem fine in your literal or metaphorical holler, it's wishful thinking to imagine everything is fine for everyone else. 

Today was another work-work day. Taiya and Jeremy hammered away at her school work. She's learning multiplication and division, and she also wrote a story about Black Cat the Pirate. William has gotten off scot-free so far this week in terms of school work. He has resisted my attempts to work with him on it (picture a wailing child rolling around on the floor screaming "NOOOOOO!"), and Jeremy's been too busy getting Taiya caught up. Luckily, kindergarten is mostly playing with blocks anyway, right? (I hear early childhood education specialists and kindergarten teachers everywhere gasping in horror - I kid, I kid!). Plus he knows the alphabet already and can count to 100, and he knows all about the animal kingdom, so I think we're good. 

It was my turn to take the kids to the creek in the late afternoon for a much-needed break from screentime. I started some rice for dinner in the rice cooker (my second favorite kitchen tool after my Instant Pot), and then we got bathing suits on and headed out. The water was cool, the rocks warm, the fall flowers blooming. The tranquil scene became a little more exciting than usual, though. William was in the middle of a rushing spot in the water and said, "Mama, I'm feeling a little scared there might be snakes here," and I almost said, "No, they don't like fast water," but then I looked over and saw something weird. It almost looked like a yellowish leaf stuck on a branch, but that wasn't quite right somehow. I walked over closer to William, and saw it was indeed a snake with its head out of the water holding a three-inch fish in its mouth!! I took his hand and we backed away from the nature documentary unfolding in front of us. Safe on the opposite side of the creek, we watched the snake slither onto shore, the still-flopping fish gripped in its jaws. 

I know it's hard to see, but just under the point of the arrow
is the fish, and to the left of that you can see the snake. 

Isn't it amazing William sensed the snake before we saw it? I praised him repeatedly, saying he did just the right thing, and he has good intuition. He said, "You mean my senses?" Yes, William, you little genius! Keep listening to any and all senses that warn you about snakes. 

We kept our eyes out for more snakes, but didn't see any. We played in Ol' Curvo, skipped rocks, and threw sticks. It is really funny to throw sticks for Daisy right into the current, because she runs over to the spot where it landed not realizing it has already floated downstream. And then she can't find it. This might sound a little mean, I realize, but it made me laugh and I don't think it hurt her feelings. 

The kids at the bottom of Ol' Curvo.

After creek time, we had a simple dinner of rice, black beans, bell pepper, avocado, cheese, and salsa for dinner. At story time Taiya and I read more Anne of Windy Poplars, and William chose to have me read Taiya an extra chapter of it so he could keep playing with his magna-tiles and matchbox cars until it was time to climb into bed, Mouse in hand, thumb in mouth, for sleep. 

I still lie in William's bed with him every night until he falls asleep. He may be getting a little old for this, but as I rubbed his small back last night, I thought about how much bigger Taiya already is than him, and how soon he's going to be that big and she'll be even bigger, and how it's all going so fast. So I've decided to put aside any worries of him being "too old" for this. Curled up with him on the bottom bunk in our cozy nest, waiting for his breathing to settle into its steady sleeping pace, it's like I can slow down time just a little. I have been impatient in the past having to do this each night, but something about Coronatime makes me just want to sink into moments like these even deeper, letting the peace of them completely saturate me, and doing what I can to make sure my children are saturated with peace and love and the decadence of all this time we get together.