There is a sweet nothing feel to 1:45 on a Saturday morning. Not that there aren't a million things to be done. There are. It seems just that these moments represent a shift, an exhalation, a transition of sorts where one state becomes another. This is a time to breathe in all those interactions from the week and slowly exhale the acknowledgement of how fleeting it can all be. One moment to the next, the highs the lows, the laughter the stress, the everything the nothing. Here. Now.
Slater is home.
It is obvious I failed college, but still I try to make him laugh so I tell him how Billy Sue gets right up in my face, looks intently into my eyes so lovingly, so kind and then in the most innocent way burps this awful partially digested dog food breath into my nose. He chuckles and paces. He laughs and figures.
This place has changed.
A physics major poses the question, If you could destroy a lifeless galaxy, with no negative consequences, would you. Of course, I think. I've done it a million times.
And here we go again.