Last night after we returned home from Claus, Jacob walked inside, went straight in through the kitchen to the pantry and got the big 10-pound bag of sugar, to represent sand, because we're far from our familiar beaches, and drawing lines in the sand to mark boundaries and starting off points is a long-standing tradition we have. He came back outside and poured the whole thing on the walkway at the bottom of the steps. He then drew a line across the middle with his finger and held his hand out for me to take. I took it and we walked solemnly over that line. A grand gestures that makes his point perfectly.
The line is drawn here and there will be no steps back now, okay, princess?
We're going to be fine.
I know we are.
Because we want it.
So, so bad, Jake.
Yeah, princess. So bad.
By now we're whispering to each other, heads together and standing in the backyard beside this pile of sugar like it was the great divide and we had somehow survived a border war.
Maybe we did.
He stared at it for around three or four minutes and then shook his head at it and said ants and then went and got out the hose. I guess we'll be growing sweetgrass this year.
Should be fun.
Stood on the corner for a while
To wait for the wind to blow down on me
Hoping it takes with it my old ways
And brings some brand new look upon me
Oh it's taking so long I could be wrong, I could be ready
Oh but if I take my heart's advice
I should assume it's still unsteady
I am in repair
I am in repair