Days can bring chaos and disruption. Unproductivity can be exhausting. Attitudes remain even after environments change. But redemption comes in subtle ways sometimes.
‘Angla-Ana!’ The familiar voice of a four-year-old, mother and brother in tow.
I’m not alone.
There’s a break in the father’s work. The eldest asks, ‘Are you tired?’ ‘I’m tired,’ the dad responds, holding his son’s hand, smiling a tired but loving smile. His eyes. His son’s attention. So much is said that words cannot say.
Conversation on the walk home takes as many turns as their attention does. Curious, protective, oblivious. They are a unit. This is their home.
I absorb it.
In their ger, the 6-year-old rolls flour. The youngest plays. Colored blocks of wood become a bird, a cat, a boat. A salad is scooped into a bowl by a 4-year-old, stuck to the cheeks of a 4-year-old, and thrown in a 4-year-old’s tantrum. A mother disciplines and laughs, acknowledging the serious and the light. And I sit, reading. As if this is normal, this family atmosphere with the television on and warmth from more than just the fire in the stove. And me.