Weathering

After months of hot (excessive) and dry (the kind that makes the red dirt crack deeply, as if recently subjected to an earthquake), Baltimore has turned itself into a thunderous place.  The skies are heavy and dark, the roads run with deep, swift water. Cars are drowning in flash-floods.

I am hoping this is not pathetic fallacy (when the weather mimics the psychological state of characters in a work of fiction: eg Shakespeare's King Lear mad on the heath in the middle of a thunderstorm).  If so, it is very ominous. WHOSE psyche is being dramatised outside?  Hmm?

It seems too vengeful to be Winton's mood, for though he cried again this morning, he seems resigned to my cruelty.  I will walk away and leave him at preschool.  He knows it.  My kisses, back-rubs and reassurances that indeed it is scary to start a new school, but it will get better are inadequate comfort.  He's sad, scared, but not thunderous.

And even Clara is in a surprisingly good mood today, despite starting in a new, unfamiliar class.  This is 100% due to the presence of Henry.  Her FAVORITE friend in the world, and she gets to be in the same class as him for these last two weeks of summer camp.  She's freaked out by having to use a new bathroom, but happy to be with Henry.

So, we'll see.  I'll be attentive today to whose mood it is exactly that the skies are throwing around.