A heavy, persistent rain has been falling since dark. So it feels extra dark. Ice will be melting tonight. The river will be filling. Tomorrow, a winter storm of snow is expected––some mysterious number of inches will fall for the holiday Monday. Wave will be pleased. This morning, first thing, he came in early and hungry. Asked for his egg. Ate it quick. Asked for another. I love a weekend when he is home. Cheerful, sweet, grateful and funny. As far as my writing I feel so much warm up to writing but mixed up about what to work on, called in a number of directions. During my walk with Charlie a new poem starts and after my swim, I follow that impulse. It comes into a new draft during the day. My daughter and I take Wave to a play at the high school, performed by a huge drama group of children and teens, Open Fields. Our neighbors are in it. I have watched so many performances on this stage. We wonder how interested Wave will be, and he is quite involved. Excited. Appreciative. Only occasionally a little restless––we stayed for only the first act, an hour and half, so he did great. It was dark and the rain had started when we left. Everyone, all three kids, Frank, Wave for dinner, take out. This is happiness in the rain of January and an impending storm.