Henry's Fever - a found journal entry from January 25th, 2015
Us ~ January 2014 (a year before writing this post) 1.25.2015 Henry has a fever. After spending most of the afternoon curled up on the couch, a tiny ball underneath an old quilt I bought this summer at a garage sale down the street, he is finally up and eating. He sits straight up in his little chair - not quite a high chair, but almost, as if there were a rod pierced down the center of his spine. I have come to almost enjoy when the children are feverish. There is something so ‘other worldly’ about their behavior. It’s as if they are in some kind of limbo between this and another parallel universe. They are shadows of themselves. Alternate versions. He is in a waking dream and I am one of his characters. His head pops up, “I have to go to the bathroom!” and he jumps up and quickly heads to the door. “Do you have to go pee or poop?” I ask. He pauses at the doorway, “Um…You should say, ‘One or Two’”. “Okay”, I agree, “Do you have to go One or Two?” “Which one is One?” he asks. “Pee”