I couldn't hear them, but could see that they were clearly discussing an audiotape Alex was holding, a novel on tape he'd gotten from the library the day before.
My daughter was wearing a little vest over her T-shirt. They had changed out of their pajamas, and looked as if they were getting ready to go to work, which it turned out was sort of the case.
When my children came back into the living room, they walked into the blue frame. I climbed up on the arm of the couch and, having found a can called "Summer Blue," began painting the trim of the large window that looks from the porch into the living room. They lay down on an old couch.Īfter a while, Alex announced to Clair in a serious voice, "We have to do that thing," and she, delighted to be needed by her older brother, nodded, and they trooped off into the house. Clair is 7, round and dark, and her hair was tangled from sleep. Alex is 12, very tall, and has bright blue eyes. The porch didn't need to be painted, and because of all its windows and high ceiling-not to mention the bicycles and muddy shoes and old couches that needed to be shoved aside-to paint it was a huge undertaking, one I never would have wanted to do. I woke early and, still in my nightgown, walked out to the porch and began to paint the walls.
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