Rain comes in quickly, almost instantly, first as damp wind and then water gusting, sheeting, pouring, drenching. The power goes out and the kids stampede upstairs to play in Isaac’s room. He’s at Winnie and Josh’s house next door, at his Science class, and these are the three teenagers, suddenly sparked with child energy by a power out and a storm.

All day, they’ve had this creativity. It’s been a good day, with fewer fights. Isaac made blueberry syrup in the morning, convincing me to make pancakes though I really had too much work for a pancake breakfast. He won me over because I’m always up for any creative endeavor and he was passionate about the blueberry syrup. Plus, his eyes.

Chinua has been gone for a little over five weeks and we are all feeling really done with being without him, but we have weeks to go. We are injecting each day with moments together, with good food and learning and joy. Flowers and playing with the dogs and listening to Harry Potter audiobooks while we crochet (me), or draw (Kenya and Solo), learn shorthand (Leafy), or just sit there because we can’t multitask (Isaac). All this goodness and still we miss the most musical, brilliant member of our family, the father who is bigger and better than life. (And that is saying a lot—these kids are pretty brilliant themselves.)

We go together. It feels like missing a limb to be apart.

This journey is more than worth it, though. For Chinua to be with Kai as he moves into a new stage of life is wonderful. And for him to be with family after so many years is so necessary, so good, so beautiful.

I know that I haven’t yet really experienced having Kai across the world because one of us is still with him. The biggest change will be when I know that he’s not with a parent, he’s on his own. He’s so ready, as ready as you can ever be, but I still have this haunting feeling that I’m not doing my job. Where is that other kid that I take care of? Oh yeah. Job complete. Check. (And of course, not ever done, not really.)

I am at the part of Chinua being away where I want to do something drastic. I just get a little squirrelly in my brain. One time this happened when Chinua was away and I got a free dog. Another time, I cut half my hair off.

Indian barber, Solo in the carrier, please shave half my hair off.

This time, I am trying not to take too big a leap. I will flow down the river. I will ride this out. But I did remove absolutely everything from my studio and now I am painting the walls. It started with wanting to clean it up, then I needed to channel some Marie Kondo, then I decided the walls were too dirty to deal with and I need to go through absolutely everything in there. It is all in a pile now, a pile of books and art and art supplies and actually maybe everything in the house has to go! No, no, Rae. Just paint the room and ooh-maybe a mural on the wall.

I am also coming to peace with the fact that I am not writing now. I mean, I am, you can see me, I am writing right now, at exactly this moment. But my book is not getting written, despite the fact that people are waiting for it, and that is okay. It will come. Right now I am taking care of the people and the other things and I miss Chinua so much that… well. Goodness. Do I need to move house? Buy an airplane? Give away everything we own? No, Rae. Ride it out.

I’m also pondering lots of things, like…

Who gets to tell you who you are?

What are your stories and who gets to tell them? What are the movements and seasons of your life? And how can we do things a different way? I’m thinking about so many things, really. I’ve been thinking a lot about you. How are you?

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