My tipi door doesn't have a key.

The first shift after a serious conversation with my boss about wages and employment, I'm opening the shop with a co-worker. I arrive and realize that I don't have my key. My heart stops. Well, I thought, my co-worker will have her key. Guess who wrote down the schedule wrong and thought she was coming in at 2? You guessed it, because I target a highbrow and overly-educated audience, my co-worker. And being the luckiest person on the planet, my father was at Peet's getting me coffee (I already said it, I'm the luckiest). So I coerced him into taking me back home and then back to work, keys in hand (not without nearly sliding down the stairs and ending it all much sooner than anticipated), all the while lamenting to myself  "My tipi door didn't have a key.What the heck!" And then I recall the dirt and the grit under my fingernails, and the sleepless (sleep-light) nights when there would come a shuffling, quiet and then louder, and then an "Aaaallleeexxx?" and I'd think WHY ME? There are THREE of us in here! and then the moment of recognition that I'm a little bit elated that it's me, and so I'd slip my feet into my shoes and pray for no slugs. And then I remembered that time, on our last day at camp, when one of my tipi-mates (one of the three) crept up to the door of our tipi from the outside and moaned "Aaaallleeexxx?" and a shock of adrenaline and dread zapped through me even though the kids were gone and it was 2:30 PM. And then I realized, and laughed out loud. But the store has keys, so I had to get them. And more luckily still, they were exactly where I'd thought they would be.

++++++

My first temper tantrum since I don't know how long, and it feels so familiar, and so like an ugly but well-used work-shirt unearthed from underneath dust and notes written in on graph paper that say "you're cute". But mostly so stupid. That's the takeaway here. Work life, love life, home life, school life, thug life- all in a snarled mess that, surprisingly enough, wasn't resolved one bit by throwing my shoes at the wall. The body's natural tension-reliever of bursting into angry and self-pitying tears though was a relief, if not a solution. Curling up and snuggling down was a relief too, treating myself (and all those other things that aren't towing the line) with benevolent disapproval and reflecting on the alarming realization that my day inevitably ends much better if I've spent some time sweating. Who knew? (I'll tell you- everyone. Everyone knew.)

++++++

My first visit with Isaac, Sam, Eleanore, and Lisa in a year went by in a haze of Star Wars talk, frozen yogurt with so many toppings, hugs given in passing or not at all because it was all just too much, and stories. What a gift. Cider, the cat even came through to make an appearance, and Sam said,

That's Cider.
I thought so. Did you know the first thing you ever told me was that Cider is a hunter?

No response. Kids have the good sense and the lack of hindsight to have no use for nostalgia of their own lives. Who needs it? There's so much to come. Isaac is all full of light saber talk:

I'm going to build a light saber.
Great! I think if anyone could do it, you could.
The only thing I've got to figure out is the power source. I might just use electricity instead of crystals...
Sure.
...because the way that real light sabers are made is very complex. I might just have to forfeit the laws of science.
Forfeit the laws of science? Well, honestly, people do it every day. So it sounds like you're well on your way.

And I'm glowing.