Then I chat, very briefly on a cold morning, with the assembled parents, one of whom just started a new job and stands in stockings and heels. I re-cross the street and climb my stairs, open the door and smell the lovely warm remains of Julia bacon and egg breakfast. Warm, warm, and home. And I am thankful for such a precious morning.
01 December 2010
It is cold outside today. We came out of the front door to a lace of frost on the storm door and a drifting of flakes in the air. The steps are showing white trip in the cracks and crevices. I pull up Julia's hood over her hat and she shoves her mittened hands deep into her pockets. She looks both ways as we cross the street -- she still needs reminders but fewer and she both willing and more accurate at her looking. She is still enthusiastic in her greetings but some of her edge is rounded -- mellow enthusiasm? She announces that she loves the bus because it is warm. She has previously announced inside that her teachers have a hard time waiting for her to come to school in the morning. She tells me to smile and wave at her as the bus leaves and I obey.