A homecoming, the river, the brook. The wetlands recede––the mallards swim in them. Most of the ice gone. Frank has cut some new trails through dry brush. The tent stands, dry and closed. I am about to photograph some ice and my phone’s battery dies. Phoneless! Oh no. I walk back to the house and leave it to charge. So hard not to get the photos I want. I walk, it feels, without a limb. Finally, return, grab the phone, go to the ice. Am satisfied with a shot or two. This is a quiet day in the house. Slept in until 8. Worked on computer until 10, preparing things for my showcase. No swim, not today. Frank wonders if he’ll have to leave town before the storm to get where he’s going, but doesn’t want to miss time with Wave. Who is home tonight. We have dinner before my showcase and the superbowl. Everyone. All three kids and more. It’s lovely to be home. I leave the table early, meet my actors online. Some brief rehearsal and prep. The showcase is excellent. I am very satisfied. I am very moved by the performances, and proud of the show, and grateful for the audience. Very grateful. I have promised Wave we will play after the show. Just before ending, I hear him trying my door. I have locked it. I hear his wailing to his mother. I end the show. Go quickly to him, and there are so many tears. I have hurt his feelings by locking the door, and all he wanted was to check to see if I was ready to play. He is in his soft spotted cow bathrobe, tied at his waist. His hair is combed and he looks like a movie star. I dry his tears, and we play dinosaurs. And I can see that he is very very tired tonight. And doesn’t want the night to end. But his eyes, they close. He is asleep.