Some time in the spring a door to door type asked me as part of his schpiel, “How many kids do you have?” This can be an amazingly difficult question to answer.
“I have two.” The response came unbidden to my lips. And then I died a little.
Moo was upstairs napping.
Today at the grocery store I got my favorite cashier. She’s nice and twinkly and she makes good conversation. The first time I went through her line I ended up giving her my hot chocolate recipe. Today she was discussing Eggplant Parmesan with the fellow ahead of me who was purchasing a giant pot and pound upon pound of Roma tomatoes.
“Looking at you makes my heart smile,” she said to Enz as he peered at her over the counter. “It’s just like seeing one of my own boys little again.” she told him.
The question’s become something of an ambiguity again. There are the two constant of course, then the one inside looming. Not changing the number quite yet, but making it necessary to tack on “and one on the way” in circumstances where my abdomen is in full view. Then there’s the other one, the one who as of two weeks ago is mine again. Though paperwork, and approvals and travel dates still need to be attended to before she can reenter the family in the flesh.
The short of it is: Moo is coming back home.
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