No sounds of waves, only the birds from outside.

No coffee.

My day for drop-off. Someone has realized they’ve forgotten something. “You owe your dad big.” “Not really. He owes me big, too.”

“You’ve got quite a crowd here. You’re doing this every day?” “No, we’re taking turns. But yes, five kids is a lot.”

“What’s the opposite of a miracle?”

One of those days when no thought is complete.

While I wait, I take a moment to seek out some delight: the flowers, the tall grasses blowing in the breeze, the sky, vine patterns on the hillsides.

100 degrees in the sun.

“One question…” To be fair, he only ever asks one question at a time. But he says the phrase so many times that it feels like he’s only ever asking questions. Twenty questions a day.

I am afraid I won’t be able to fall asleep.