vittore

I woke up to a bowl of black cherries and chocolate milk at my bedside.

Random fact: I absolutely adore cherries, but I abhor anything cherry flavoured.
It most likely comes from the abundance of medicine I took as a child, all of it meant to taste like cherries, which of course, didn't, at all. Now, any artificial cherry flavouring makes me do that "ick" face you usually only see on five-year-olds.

My grandfather has been gone for two weeks, and my grandmother has been acting oddly.
I'm supposed to be housesitting, but it's not the house I'm looking after.
She's up at all hours of the night, cooking, constantly. It's like a sauna in the downstairs kitchen.
She's overfeeding the fish, and the pups.
Zai has been bringing home rabbits larger than she is,
which I'm hoping my grandmother is not putting into the soup.

I've been recovering, but I still have fever dreams.
They're extremely lucid, and comforting. The other night, I dreamt of him, and awoke to his voice.
It was a rushed, 46 second long conversation, more than half of it with me completely bewildered, because I thought that he was already physically beside me.
I fell back almost instantly after, to a place where we were happy and languid, and not running.
(There are always two types of dreams; ones in which you run, and ones you don't.)

Nights, Margo is a giant black burr, constantly at my side, while Benji is a shadow the corner of the room, guarding against the creaks and groans of the settling house. They're within 4 months of each other, and related. (Benji is supposedly Margo's uncle, even though he's younger.) They're still babies, and they draw as much comfort from me as I do from them.

I have two more weeks until I move, again.
I am excited, and apprehensive.