It's late friday afternoon and so quiet. I'm sitting at the kitchen table here in the back of the apartment--I can hear bambi murmuring to her animals and dolls in the "liver room", a mourning dove cooing in the air shaft. Every now and then a bus passes four stories below on rain soaked streets--no other traffic really--just busses and ambulances.
I just made bambi some popcorn and I'm drinking a little coffee--normally I stick with tea lately but I forgot to make it and jesse had some coffee leftover in the silver pot.
Before this I regularly had an afternoon coffee. Take out from the local spot on the way to the playground to drink there or on the church steps or drunk hastily as I push the stroller to the library so I don't doze in the warmth and safety of it all. But now I prefer tea if I'm making things at home.
We've written letters to my grandmas and bambi's... no nap... but oddly pleasant. I gave her a book I've had stashed away. To fill up the last hour or so before dinner. In the dim and quiet of end of week.
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