Saturday

I woke to our son bouncing his stuffed beagle on the bed this morning, asking for breakfast. Naturally, this was at least a good forty minutes before he wakes up on a school morning.

Matt slipped out of bed, poured Isaac some cereal. I think. He collapsed back on the bed with me for a little while before he rose for good, taking the dog outside. I dozed alone, not really sleeping, but deeply appreciating my husband for the way he gets up with the kids after he can’t sleep any longer, closing the bedroom door behind him.

When I pried myself out of bed after a night of strange dreams and a week of sleeping restlessly, I went for a jog in the cool morning air. I planned on a short run, but when I reached the point at which I would have turned back, I kept going. Ran four miles. Burst through the back door, sweating but feeling good. Showered while Matt made me a banana-walnut waffle. Played board games in the living room with Isaac. Took Suzannah to gymnastics. Matt had a grilled swiss-and-tomato sandwich waiting for me when we arrived home. I ate it quickly, and the four of us headed for Seattle, to the Pacific Science Center for the IMAX showing of the Great White Shark movie. The kids seemed enthralled, but walking through Seattle Center afterwards in the waning afternoon light, Isaac said, “I don’t want to see that movie ever again.” I asked him why not, and he said, “Because the shark SURPRISED me.” He doesn’t like scary things. Matt and I smiled at each other, remembering the way he tossed his popcorn in the air and hid his face at our first IMAX movie about the monarch butterflies. Those alarming six-story insect faces.

We walked by the fountain at Seattle Center afterwards.

“Look, a rainbow,” both kids said, noting the early-evening sunlight filtering through the spray of water. The day was warm enough that people still splash in the water, even in late September. Soon enough, these golden evenings will be replaced by clouds and rain. I’m ready for it, but still, the honeyed evening air was so perfect I didn’t want to leave it, even to climb into the car.

We made a drive-by stop at the Elliott Bay Book Company. Really, a drive-by -- I vaulted out of the car, ran inside to buy The Secret Place by Tana French and The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters, two books I’ve been awaiting for months. I originally thought I could wait for The Secret Place at the library, but there are still 70 people ahead of me in line, and I love everything else she’s written. I can’t wait for seventy people. I’m not that patient.

Dinner at the Elliott Bay Brewery. We haven’t been there in what seems like forever. They gave us fries without salt to share with Isaac. He’s such a good sport about his low-sodium diet; when we said he could have just a tiny bit of ketchup on his plain burger, he said, “But does it have salt? Actually, I don’t want any.” It made me want to cry, a bit.

Suzannah fell asleep in the car on the way home, a Kleenex clutched in her fist. She has a cold, or allergies; typical beginning of the school year. She’s so stoic about her runny noses. “I’m fine,” she says. “Just sniffly. It’s fine, Mom.” But of course, we are jumpy, since the only symptoms Isaac displayed in the weeks before we wound up in the hospital were a runny nose and a general crabbiness. Nephritic syndrome isn’t contagious, but our anxiety lingers.

The kids went right to bed when we made it home. Skipped flossing and stories, let us tuck them in without argument or drama. Matt and I collapsed on the couch with drinks and Netflix and I said, “There is laundry in the dryer, and I am not even going to fold it tonight.” He nodded solemnly.

I could not possibly be more in love or more grateful for all of this.