Monday, June 29, 2026, 58.6* F, 92% RH, 0640
Last night sleep arrived as Mary (The Other Bennet Sister) was watching a storm from Scafell Pike in the company of Mr. Ryder, Mr. Hayward, Miss Bingley and an impatient guide who had advised they begin their descent before the storm materialized. I opened my eyes, marked the page, took off my glasses, closed the book, turned off the light.
As I dressed, I thought of the boys’ father, of back surgery, of a stranger he brought home to help me. She needed a home for the summer away from Chicago. That was before we had children. I remember her long red hair, her soft voice. She had recited the Lord’s Prayer aloud as a stranger raped her. She asked me what love feels like.
The three were eager to see me, to be let outside. I stood aside as the giants headed for the door. It is not a time for petting. Landscape still dripping, drops of jewels on chain links, on leaves changing color as Soleil touched them. Speranzo pustularia moth on the railing. Seven birds: Brown Creeper, Red-eyed Vireo, American Crow, Blue-headed Vireo, Common Yellowthroat, Ovenbird, American Goldfinch. Blue sky. No clouds.
Reality: The difference between hearing about something and actually living through it.
Photo: LJ Austin
