Wake up. Kiss the boy. Brush the teeth. One of the bathrooms in our apartment is out. Plumbing issue, being worked on. Hydrate. Liquid breakfast. Kiss the boy. “I miss you when I’m at work.” “I miss you when I’m at school!” See you later alligator. In a while, crocodile. Kiss the boy. Kiss the wife. Walk to work. Watch the big excavators bringing down a building. Bits and pieces of the Joslin live on, in my alveoli. Work work work. Remember to hydrate. Remember to pee. Remember to eat. Work work work. Find something to be grateful for (this part, usually easy, best part of work). Walk home. Pick the boy. Time slows down. Playground, library, pretend gorillas. “I’m scary [scared], will you protect me?” on the playground slide. Again and again and again. It makes him happy to do the same thing over and over, to know that I’m still there, that my patience hasn’t worn thin, that I still have it in me. Meal prep, dinner, large pizzas once a week. Cut some fruit for dessert: “Mmm… crunchy!” he says about this summer’s nectarines. Almost nightly, we watch the first thirty minutes of My Neighbor Totoro in Mandarin Chinese. The older he gets, the more ground we lose to English; we’ll take any help we can get. He tells us animatedly (in full English paragraphs) about why some trains need one locomotive, others need two, still others need three. “Daddy, speak to me in English,” he says. I say that I like speaking Chinese (in Chinese) and give him a big hug. Clean up the living room. Bath time. Two picture books before bed. Kiss the boy. Exercise, shower, journal, read. Meditate. Die. Wake up.
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July 11, 2026: A trip to East Boston to watch the Parade of Tall Ships celebrating the 250th anniversary of the United States. We walk the promenade of Piers Park with the crowds, enjoying frozen watermelon lemonade, plant-based ice cream, and free hot dogs and drinks. Jordan is very vaguely amused by the ships, but more excited by the orbiting news helicopters (“Ducky One and Ducky Two!”) and the Blue/Green train rides on either end of the morning.
July 18, 2026: A morning outing to Newton’s Crystal Lake - a regular summer destination for us, this year tinted a mute yellow by the haze of Canadian wildfires. We round the lake and play fetch with Annie the over-excited greyhound, followed by a stop in Newton Centre for books, second breakfast, and Asian groceries.
