Poisoned

I finished The Road last night...weeping. Uuugh. It left ash-colored, frozen mud in my chest. The main characters hit too close to home for me. The spectre of a world war has, for a very long time, hidden itself, sometimes obviously, in my mind. I cannot imagine needing to scrape out an existence in such a world. Feels like a little piece of me died last night. I posit that the cost to benefit of this book is too high. Then again, maybe I'm just a raw nerve.

The flip-side to life's coin, here in the northwest corner of CT is that spring is in full effect. It is seventy degrees outside, sunny, the grass is definitely getting greener, and the heavy, life-giving scent of tilled earth wafts through the classroom windows. I'll take it!

Our boys are getting their long awaited grass stains and elbow scrapes kindly donated by outdoor play. There is a hint of sunburn on Boden's head from time spent toddle-running at the playground, and Bryhn didn't protest at all about his nap. As I write this, I can smell the sandbox just outside the window. Makes me think of Michigan...