Day 11 (late) + Day 12


"Cheerimoes" he says, insistent.
There are no Froot Loops left,
which is what he means. He grabs
my back, turns me to face the pantry
again. "Cheerimoes!" He's hungry.
We ate lunch four hours ago.
Dinner isn't usually til six. It's snack time,
but we're out of the essentials.
I remember I put a baggie of snacks
in his lunch bag. I offer him the bag,
he's still so upset he throws the "cheerimoes"
As far from himself as possible.
I'm done. He'll have to finish screaming
on his own. Except I'm screaming now, too. I hear my own voice, "Stop it!!!!! Stop!" I can't stop myself,
how do I expect him to stop? He doesn't even
have the right words to tell me what he wants.

I walk into another room for a second.
Try to remind myself he's learning
from my example. He calms down quickly,
and asks for "that," pointing to the baggie
I'd stowed away. It's enough. It will
be enough. As long as we remain calm.



The wet pier glimmers.
We're walking, not casting nets.
Still Californians.