Wednesday, February 19

every afternoon

Every day in his room Cedar cooks and bakes. He knows just what he is doing and his imagination grows a little more each time. I suppose, since I'm always around, that I notice the subtle developments and they tickle me. Each day there is a new joke. When I'm at the thrift shop I scour the kitchenware for tiny utensils, pans, plates. It fulfills something in me to play with these things as well. I can be a child again next to him, and I've missed that magic land. It's as if his fairy dust settles on me when I am near him.