May 25: Addie is still licking herself raw. She stopped focusing purely on her stomach and has now added one of the pads of her front right paw. Now when we leave, we have to put on both the life vest and a shoe that makes her limp around the apartment. She is slowly becoming a pirate.
May 26: Through this entire school year, I have managed to dodge all illnesses. I escaped every flu and virus that existed in the Petri dish that is this school. Then I get taken down by one weekend with Nick. The dogs seem to realize we are sick and have spent all day cuddling us. They even split up to keep track of us when we go to different rooms. Addie remained in the bedroom while Nick napped and George followed me into the living room to watch TV.
May 27: The Monet exhibit featured paintings from the later years of Monet’s life. They comprised mainly of his famed paintings of Lillies and the bridge that curved over his garden pond. There was a series painted during the time his cataracts rendered him nearly blind. They were colorful and haphazard. Most of the time, I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to depict until I either took off my glasses or looked at it from across the room.
May 28: Vivi and Maria were out sick today. Ana took Maria’s class and Vivi’s students were split up amongst the rest of our classes. Dea’madja got ahold of my speaker with the suction cup and immediately pushed it against his eye. Then Noelia did the same. They both started crying because of how much it hurt to pull the speaker off. I finally calmed them down and got them to run cold water over their closed eyes to help with the pain. My kids didn’t help. They kept pointing out that one eye was now bigger than the other. This was because the irritated eye kept squinting, but it convinced Dea’madja and Noelia that their eyeball had popped out of its socket.
Or
Fireworks have been going off for over ten minutes because a Giants’ game has just ended. We didn’t even win. I guess it is a display of the sad fireworks.
May 29: Mom sent out a group text message to me and my brothers. It read “Your brown grandma is dying. Wanted to remind you of her.”
May 30: Benjamin held out a loose tooth towards me. “I found this in my celery. It isn’t mine.” He showed me his loose tooth, which was still barely holding on. I didn’t know what to do in that situation, so I called Melissa over. She asked him to check the rest of his mouth. Turns out, a tooth on the other side of his mouth that wasn’t even loose popped out without him realizing it.
May 31: There is no cure for homesickness. I house a place in my head as my embodiment of home. It’s a collection of sunny days, the smoothie shop I always went to, and the people I used to play soccer with in the street. But so much time passes in between my visits that each time I come home, I recognize it less and less.
much love,
hedgie
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