Learning to be still.

I'm writing this, seated comfortably at my kitchen table, in the air-conditioned apartment, on another gorgeous Oregon afternoon. There's still a detectable haze in the air from a fire burning near Hood Lake, and the swimming pool at our complex is lousy with children, committed to wringing the very last from this shimmering summer. Sara should be home anytime from a job interview, with two potential families seeking her nanny services. I'm sure it went well; she's talented, well-dressed, and always smells amazing. I would hire her, even though I could only pay her in kisses.