Happy 100 Days: 64

Bug’s dad came to whisk him away. For all our square footage here in this house, Tee’s quarters can do a better job keeping our kid safe. He lives in an interior townhouse with a finished basement. When the 50-mph winds strike, they will have a place to go.
 
I sent my little boy off with his Halloween costume in a bag and a dozen ginger snaps in a tupperware. We made cookies together last night, both of us in our technicolor aprons with wooden spoons in hand. He poured in the molasses and sugar. Measuring out scoops of of flour, he counted his fractions and added the halves together to make wholes. We rolled the batter into balls and dipped them in sugar. The house filled with the smell of cinnamon and clove.
 
The rain falls and falls. The dog paces. The cat yowls. Plastic sheeting lifts and rattles in its futile attempt to protect the basement from the deluge.
 
I pull a mattress down to the first floor. The candles are ready, a copy of The Satanic Verses sits on a trunk at the head of my makeshift bed.
 

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