Fresh

June 2nd, 2008

A storm is blowing in. A is at the Tagesm├╝tter (babysitter) and C is napping upstairs. I’ve got the windows open downstairs, a hard breeze clearing out yesterday’s thick humid air and stirring the sheer orange curtains, wildly spinning┬á the rainbow pinwheel in the garden. An occasional bang and rattle outside, open windows in the apartments across the street, the neighbors too filling their home with this fresh air coming down off the mountains.

When the wind blows just right, blows over the Alps and down into the city I can taste the snow in it, taste the last melting snowpacks.

C is awake. Storms seem to unsettle him as they unsettled his older brother. They are our barometers, our weathervanes these little boys.

Off I go to shelter my boy from the winds.


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