Daniel's poem

Fragile heart and mind,
blown apart like burnt paper,
splintered foundation.

for everyone who's been struggling lately.

----
My son Daniel wrote the above poem and posted it on Facebook. I know he's got his brother on his mind, as well as other sadnesses and disappointments. His grandmother's hip surgery. His Aunt Sheila's stroke. I love that kid. I wish I could tell him how much, and have him really, really believe me. I sent him a message to tell him how good the poem was. I hope he believes me. He's got this attitude that if his dad or I praise him, it's because we feel sorry for him or because we're required to praise him (I must have missed that chapter in the Rules of Parenting Handbook).

We haven't talked to Stephen. It's hard not to call, but we have to wait for him to reach out to us.

I've been in the office all day working. Class is in an hour. Let's hope the projector works tonight. Sigh. I'm all prepared in case it doesn't, but that doesn't mean anything. They'll expect to be let out early.

Sadly, I have to stay up here tomorrow night, too, so I can go to a meeting on Friday morning. Beloved Spouse mentioned possibly coming up and having supper with me Thursday night. He won't stay the night, especially if he has golf on Friday. But I did purchase an additional foam bed topper for that hard mattress, so I slept better last night. Not so much like sleeping on the floor.

Mike and Pam's kids have been sick. My cousin's kids and grandkids in Alexandria have been sick. My nephew's wife in Jena has been sick. Why do I have a sneaky feeling that a giant wave of horrible illness is wafting its way north from the Deep South? Run for the border! (Problem is, I don't have a passport, so if I went to Canada, I wouldn't be able to get back to the U.S.)