Had to get Jack early from camp.  His right knee still bugging him, worse than last night.  Limping and in discomfort.  Camp counselor calling me about an hour ago telling me Jack kept citing the pain and how it’s difficult to walk.  He’s home now and I can tell he feels bad, even apologizing to me for interrupting my work to get him.  I thought, “What work?” Poor little Beat….  He’s home now, safe, relaxed after his first shower in his new home.  Now we spend time together and my mood is transmuted into a new color and architecture.  Funny how days as a parent take unknown Roads like this.

I’ll admit, at first I was a bit eye-roll-y, and frustrated but then I thought how Jack must feel.  More than likely missing All-Stars practice today, almost guaranteed, and probably concerned a bit with my reaction.  Feel bad for him, and frustrated with myself.

He hobbles down the stairs and arrives in the office.  I ask how his shower was.  “Good!” He answers with true enthusiasm and excitement and realization that he has a new home, and a beautiful new shower.  Happy for him.  Happy that he’s happy.

Day ending, slowing to a complete still.  3:20.  Wash going upstairs, thinking about what I need to get done this weekend.

Jack on the sofa seat in front of me, me here working and filing papers and starting new files, arranging them and placing them in the cabinet Dad built a couple weeks ago behind me, reminded of when I’d be in Dad’s office doing homework or playing and he was behind his desk.  The replays of such seeds control and lovingly shove the writer.

One of my topics, books, or string of chapters not even two feet from me.  Stress is not even forgotten or dismissed.  It’s like the concept was negated by me and what I remember from my days as a kid in Dad’s office.