Buckets of rain, and Tom's headlights driving away into the wet dark. Another Monday.
* * *
I didn't write to you yesterday because I was distraught about my cat, who'd been gone for 24 hours . . . the longest he's every vanished. But just as I was steeling myself to accept the likelihood that he'd been eaten or run over, he reappeared at the back door, snarky and insouciant and demanding brunch. So the little jerk is back, and I am relieved and exasperated, in equal parts.
He went to bed in the recycling basket, and the rest of my day improved considerably. Tom and Paul had the good idea of canoeing out to the point for a picnic dinner, so I made BLTs and corn salad and brownies and then sat queenlike in the middle of the canoe, shrieking slightly as we tipped and wobbled across the choppy lake. Tom, who usually paddles stern, formally gave up that spot to Paul. He joked that it was a Harmony bar mitzvah: "Now, son, you are a man. Steer us through the waves." And Paul did.
It is nice to be bossed around by your kid when your kid really knows what he is doing.
Here's what we saw just before sunset.