Saturday, October 25, 2025, 42.9*, 93% RH, 0713
Surprised to encounter puddles, we walk in the dark. Rain gathers in the hood not covering my head. I go inside. Zayne follows getting braver, but he’s seen the truck and knows Chris will appear. He waits in the kitchen for a biscuit instead of running down the hall, hiding in his bed. Raspberry, blueberry, vanilla spill across the sky.
Yesterday, Zsolt saw deer. Stood. Watched. The deer saw him watching, ran. I saw three tails. Zayne does not comprehend “watch.” If it moves, he wants to introduce himself: “I’m here! I’m here! Let’s play!” “Mom. Why do they run away?”
Flight is self-preservation. Not everyone can be a friend.
Photo: LJ Austin
