In one dream, we are in the treehouse and have just removed a tree. He puts a large metal stake in the ground as if he is reinforcing the earth somehow. Before we go inside, I see an orange glow. I yell to a neighbor that it looks like fire. She agrees. There is a long line of trees that border us, and one by one, they go up in flames, rapidly, like falling dominoes. I run inside and tell everyone to pack their bags. It is, technically, too early for this. We are not prepared.

Them doing the meal planning, the list-making, and the grocery shopping is the perfect gift.

I think I figured it out.

They remembered the sweet figs.

I take my book out and sit in the sun. My eyes are tired. I close them and lean my head back. I drop the book. I wish I could make a little blanket fort on the deck.

“Limits are a secret blessing, and bounty can be a curse.” - Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit

Burn the roof of the mouth.

Someone is yelling about taking a break from the XBox. Sounds about right.

Burnt molasses.

Staring into the light.