Homeschooling gives us the freedom to ditch school whenever and for however long we want, so we spent last week in Rehoboth and most of this week outdoors enjoying the fine weather. I love the seashore in autumn. The boardwalk isn’t bustling with folks as it is in summer, yet it isn’t as lonely as it is in the winter (this too, has it's own stark charm). We have a pleasant beach routine: breakfast, long walk, lunch, followed by games while the baby naps, another long walk and some browsing in the shops, dinner, and games or television until we go to bed. The children played in the surf most days as we walked along the beach, collecting whelks, mermaid’s purses, surf-polished stones, and driftwood. Once we found a little crab hiding in the sand, with just the tips of his claws showing. He obligingly snapped at a stick for us before burrowing further down, away from interfering humans and hungry gulls. On our last day, I met a talkative old guy who’d just had word of his first great grandbaby’s arrival. We talked a bit while the kids played in the sand and it turns out he’s had 9 children, with 7 living. I don’t talk about my Atticus much, but it’s comforting in a way to meet other people who’ve lost children – they know how badly you want, and will always want, your child back. They know that the grief can be nearly unbearable, even years and years later. I wish I'd had more time with Atticus, but I've often thought that his leaving us so young was somehow easier than losing an older child would have been. The old man I spoke to lost one child at birth, and one at 19. I can't imagine. He told me that while he didn't have favorites of course, his 19 yr. old was special -- a child after his own heart. Well, he was a nice old man, and I wish him joy of his new great grandson.

dinner tonight: tomato lime soup and pepperjack quesadillas on chili-dusted corn tortillas