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A little port in a storm

I started school again this week, meaning that my life suddenly and forcibly moved outside our safe tiny house. It’s always a wrenching event, though I know it’s good for me. In the winter I spend days on end nestled in the big chair with the kids, kissing foreheads absently, looking up research on some detail of silver chemistry or elbow dysplasia or a good recipe for stew while they lean against me and draw or tell stories. It’s a sweet, slow time that draws me in until I am convinced the worst thing that could ever happen is to put on shoes and go to town.

But put on shoes I did, and headed to advanced darkroom photography, where Biff promises to pummel me with new knowledge all semester and force a good portfolio out of me by March. We’ll see – for tonight at least I am under a soft cotton quilt that is ragged from being chewed on by generations of puppies, curled back up in the chair, listening to my babies sleep.

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