Nephew5, who is three, woke me up early this morning sobbing. "Getting-ready-for-school," early morning drama, I think.
I made a space for him on my bed, cuddled and kissed him. He left when he was calm, he left, ready to battle the horde. Ten minutes later he was crying because Nephew4 (his older brother) threw away his rock.
"You can't keep a rock in a flat," Nephew said in explanation. I understood Nephew4's viewpoint, but I could empathise with Nephew5. When I was very young, I had a pet rock that I polished and shined and would have been very upset if anyone threw away my rock. My brother-in-law and the boys left before 7.30am to go to work and school.
After tidying the flat, I went for a long walk in the neighbourhood. It was lovely feeling my lungs effortlessly expand and shrink and my leg muscles stretch as I walked the hilly area. I missed this city! When I got back to the flat, after the shower, I sat at the dining-room table and did some writing.
I'm transcribing and rewriting some fiction from the notebooks. The rewrite is going fast and looks promising.