Nightglow Window

Arc

Christy's grandfather is not well. Today is particularly grim and I cower -- escaping with the girls to my old elementary school and the movies -- while Christy and her dad keep long, miserable vigil at the Mission Viejo hospital.

Cowardice rewarded, I enjoy my stroll around De Portola Elementary School. I show the girls my kindergarten, first- and second-grade classrooms; walk to the edge of the slope where I lined up the lunch tables for that bmx jump that got me into so much trouble -- I even admit to my girls (no, not to you) what happened to that far left drinking fountain those so many years ago (32! Eek gads!).

The Carranza house looks old, as well it should, but it's a fresh field for cultivating memories. Sydney, Hannah, and I have a long conversation about the distant past and they are interested and laugh as I remember, the perfect audience.

The Spiderwick Chronicles is vivid and intense -- the girls crouch in their seats with fingers in their ears, clearly terrified, exhilarated, unable to turn away. It makes me really want to see Mike G's Royal Oak produced. After, we wait at Barnes & Noble with latte and hot chocolates and some very frank talk about death.

But unexpectedly the corner is turned, and it looks like Bob is improving a bit. The cell phone finally rings with the good news. Christy and her dad wait on the corner outside the hospital, red eyed and wrecked.

5,560 miles away my friend Barry is hip deep in one of the great experiences of life, the birth of his first child. It’s an interesting Alpha-Omega juxtaposition with what’s going on with Bob ... There’s more there, but I still haven’t pieced it together. I have nothing interesting (let alone profound) to say except that I’m so very happy for my friend, and so sorry to watch Bob (and Christy and J.P.) suffer and worry.