Friday night, sleepy time?

We've entered the dark season. One of my favourite times of the year.

Andy laughs when I say that. "You love them all," he teases me.

Secundo doesn't know if it's time to get up or time to go to sleep. "Wate up?" he asked just before 6 this morning? And then, not quite 6 pm, he cocked his head at me and asked, "Sleepy time?"

"Just dark," I said."

We ate mashed potatoes and had pancakes for dessert. Secundo came up with the postres. Rooting around in the frig, he found the last egg and suggested, "Pan-tates."

After syrup Primo lay on the pink loveseat in the living room in his pj's and asked me to massage his feet. "More tickly, mama," he requested.

Then Steph came to pick them up for the weekend.

"Go home?" Secundo asked me when Steph arrived. I nodded. He ran to get his coat, placed it down on the floor in front of him, stuck his arms in the armholes, flipped it over his head, and voila, he was ready to go!

I kissed the boys good bye and fought tears for a few minutes. I always feel a pull into the quicksand of grief, failure, loss when they leave. But my brother Joe, with inimitable timing, called to remind me that this is the first day of my weekend of writing! I am writing a novel, did you know?

Then I sat down at the computer. And wrote the first line. Two, actually. Here they are.

If I had killed him when I wanted to, would I have any chance at true happiness? Say I’d done my time and was found to be rehabilitated, what would it take to put this behind me? Was I ever going to wake up in the morning to hear birds chirping and feel the sun of hope rise inside me?

OK, that was three. Hey, I'm a writer.

Stay tuned!