have been so busy with the move and the start of school. i finally finished netherland though --

"Who is he?" I said.

She gave me a name. She told me, without my asking, that he was a chef.

"I'll leave tomorrow," I said, and Rachel gave a horrible little nod.

I brushed Jake's teeth with his dinosaur-themed toothbrush. I read him a story - at his insistence, Where the Wild Things Are, even though it frightened him a little, this story of a boy whose bedroom is overtaken by a forest - and calibrated his bedroom's dimmer switch according to his instructions. "More light," a voice softly commanded from his bedding, and I gave him more light. Rachel stood at the door, arms folded. Later, as I packed my belongings in the adjoining room, I heard a childish squeal of protest. "What's going on?" I said. "Nothing," Rachel said. "He's just making a fuss." I saw that she had completely lowered the dimmer. I restored the light in a rage. "I won't have my son sleeping in the dark," I said to Rachel in a near shout. "Jake," I said, "from now on you sleep with the light on, if that's what you want. Daddy says so. OK?" He widened his eyes in assent. "OK," I said. Trembling, I kissed him. "Good night, my boy," I said.

leaving, part 1

today was my last day at the house. i was surprised by how sad i felt to be leaving. i didn't feel particularly close to this group of kids, and if anything found my temper running short more often than not in these past few weeks. my attendance has also been spotty. but while i was sitting on the floor admiring the picnic that S and S had painstakingly prepared for me (it was supposedly my birthday), i had to hold back the tears.

a short while later, A decided that he was going to sing us a justin bieber song while playing the faux toddler piano. S, following my delight, announced, "it's a cawn-sut!" in her raspy 3 year-old voice. we soon had a lineup, with S singing her abc's in acappella and the other S strapping on her pink electric guitar to perform an original. M was upset because he didn't have an instrument (he tried to steal S's), so i went on a hunt for a tambourine but ended up giving him a makeshift guiro which he scraped w/ the toy spatula. he was so pleased with it that he immediately began to sing the alphabet song, scraping away, and sang it at least twice more during the rest of our time. i didn't even know he knew the alphabet. it all felt like a gift and i felt lucky, thankful.

i tried to explain that i was leaving, that today was my last day because i was moving. i don't think S, M, and R heard it. they don't hear a lot of things. whether this is unintentional i don't know. A stopped what he was doing and looked at me. he began to say something in response - a question maybe? but i saw him mentally shake it off and choose to ignore it. that hurt. S was the most gracious: she got real close to me, her face in mine, and told me about mary's departure, her brother's hat from new york, and how she was going to move to china with her mother and A. she's the one i spent the least time with. i don't remember the other S's reaction very well.

i realize termination is a responsibility and it's something i hope to get better at. i have been selfish not to work harder at it.

i like looking behind the library counter and seeing what others have put on hold. today i saw real food, the help, a book of piano compositions, something computer-related, and bad boy, to name a few.