181. Hotel

One babe cries aloud

Another coughs his lungs out

The third lies silent

180.Contemplations of a Nursing Mother

My baby's growing up. He giggles and points and chatters and waves. He tells me he's all done. He crawls and walks along the couch. He thinks his siblings are fun. He claps and kicks his little feet when he sees or hears them. He stuffs his mouth faster than he can swallow, and he only has four teeth, so it doesn't always get chewed. He's growing up. He doesn't depend on me absolutely anymore. 

But then we have those moments, when everyone has settled down, and he and I are alone together. All is quiet and peaceful, and he falls asleep nursing in my arms. His gentle breathing, slow, steady, and nearly silent, makes me feel my purpose once again. He may not need me for his survival anymore -- he can eat food and quench his thirst by the hands of others; he can move around on his own, get where he wants, change position if uncomfortable; he has others to entertain him-- but I can still provide that one innate comfort to him. I can soothe him in a way no one else can, in a way he doesn't want from anyone else. I am still of value to him. I don't know how much longer it will last, but for now, I revel in the tender moments that remind me that I am needed by this perfect little being.

179. Baby Haiku

Swim, sleep, eat, drink, breath

Can I do it all at once?

If I'm a baby.

178. Raindrop Dreams

If I could have a nickel 

For every raindrop burst

I would be the richest

But I wouldn't be the worst

I'd fly into the starlight

I'd sail across the sea

I'd go live my dreams awakened

But I'd still be plain old me

177. Preservation

Delicious jams and jellies

That's what I made today

Blueberries, limes, raspberries, too

With them I slaved away.

I chopped and smushed and dipped and poured

And stirred and stirred some more.

I filled up every jar I had

And shut the freezer door.

Five flavors new will greet my tongue

When next I bake some bread

But not this day: I'm too worn out.

For now I'll go to bed.

176. Senses

I see the birds, the trees, the sky.

I hear the bumblebee go buzzing by.

I smell the flowers, woods, and sea.

I feel the grass that's under me.

I taste the salty and the sweet.

I love the people that I meet.

All these joys God gives to me.

I thank thee, Father, fervently.

175. Bloodline

Eochaid and Ugaine,

The fathers of my line.

Cinhil, Aidan, Marmaduke,

They link us all through time.

Passing through the eras, 

Our blood connects us strong.

And here I sit beneath them,

Learning of my throng.

174.Take Heart For Mrs. Pankhurst Has Been Clapped in Irons Again

Isn't it interesting that so many of us fight for rights for others that we ourselves don't take advantage of? Why do we do that? We cry foul that girls in Africa can't go to school, yet we complain that our child's school day got lengthened this year. We throw fits that gay marriage is not universally accepted, and yet the divorce rate is ridiculous. We blame policemen or security of being negligent when there is a shooting and turn around and accuse them of exerting too much control if they detain someone with a gun.

Are we simply wired to be unhappy? Are we built to be complacent? We have our privileges in life because somebody somewhere sacrificed theirs. Somebody held their ground when it was easier not to. Somebody gave up a comfort. What trials and causes of today will be disposable norms tomorrow? Next year? In ten years? Fifty? 

173. The Grossies

I found a dude today in my lineage who married his sister's daughter and, as Syndrome so eloquently puts it, "got busy."

I know that in 4th century Scotland this is rather normal but it gives me the heebie-jeebies. Sure, it makes things simpler in the tracing-lineage department (one less line to follow), but yuck! Not cool! This is how we get things like hemophilia, people. Don't interbreed!

I'm very grateful that I live in a time and a place where my children will have a much broader dating/marriage pool than my own siblings. *shudder*

Yay America?

172.Sir Marmaduke and Luke

Sir Marmaduke and his son Luke went walking in the woods.

They picked up sticks and rocks and bricks that gathered in the bloods.

Said Marmaduke to his son Luke "Look here, my little one.

The watered plains are drying up. They're basking in the sun."

Then little Luke to Marmaduke looked gaily with a grin

"Dear Papa, now it's dry again, let's run. I bet I'll win!"

So Marmaduke raced his son Luke across the sodden grass

'Til gasping, laughing, out of breath, the boys fell, quite abashed.

Now drenched in mud from head to toe they entered 'to the keep.

They washed and scrubbed til all was clean and fell at last to sleep.

171. Demon Sweetheart

Thomas has discovered the art of softening hearts. This boy, troublemaker that he is (see pretty much my whole last two weeks), loves to make people happy. This includes himself. He doesn't like getting in trouble. Who does? But he has found that he can lessen his unhappiness (e.g. Consequences) with three simple words. "I love you." Yes, the little booger has found the way to his mama's (and daddy's) heart. When he thinks -- or knows, depending on the severity of the crime -- that he is about to get in trouble, he rushes over to me, wraps his chubby little arms around my leg, looks up at me with those adorable green eyes, flashes me his best smile, and says "I love you, Mommy!"

Ugh! How can anyone stay mad at a kid who does this? What a stinker! And the worst part is that it works on me. Yes, I'm hanging my head in shame. The little things get lost in those puppy-dog eyes, and the big things tend to get knocked down a bit. 

I have gotten a bit better at recognizing the difference between  random declarations of affection (because he does that) and attempts to get out of trouble, which, it turns out, is a good things since he's started preempting my discoveries of his naughtiness with these affections. 

And it's not just me. He does it to Jay, too. He's been out of town since Thomas started this, so he's only just receiving these manipulations, and he's a total sucker. But not to worry, give us a few days and we'll build up our immunity again. If Thomas had snuck out of bed and into the kitchen at 6:30 a.m. to eat 6 Lindor chocolates a week from now, he'd be getting more than a deep breath and a backyard banishment.

Survival instincts: 1, Parents: 0

170. Failure

People work and people fail 

Love and effort, no avail 

Creativity in stride

At least I tried

169. Father

Daddy, Father, Papa, Dad

Whatever name you use

He is loving, strong, and kind

A friend if you so choose.

Daddy, Father, Papa, Dad

You call him by this name.

Protector, counselor, helper, friend,

He'll love you more than fame.

168. Haiku to Today

Drive drive drive drive drive

All I'm going to do today

Drive drive drive drive drive 

167. Murphy

Sometimes you say dumb things like "well, the only thing left that can go wrong is a broken bone."

That's generally when Murphy slaps you in the face with a sprained, possibly broken finger, a kid with diarrhea, a kid with a fever of 102, a kid cutting four teeth, and a kid with hanger-management issues. Yep. Good way to end this trip. 

166. Body Count

Sister time is great. Cousin time is dangerous. Case(s) in point:

-In the first hour of being together without the immediate presence of their mothers (grandpa was babysitting and forgot that parents can't go to the bathroom), the boys (mostly Thomas) hoses down the entire kitchen and dining area and about half the living room. Luckily, the electronics were on the opposite side of the living room. Body count: one framed artwork.

-Berto pulverized a muffin. Seriously, crumbdust. I set it down with the intent to give him pieces, but I chose to put the rest of the muffins away before feeding it to him. That was my mistake. In the time it took me to get the muffins in the mini fridge, Berto destroyed his Costco-sized confection. It was awesome, terrifying, and impressive all at once. Body count: one muffin, Berto's hunger

-The Zoo: I don't know all the details of this event, but I do know that they were naughty enough that the men in charge did not let them stay to play in the park area. Body count: Grampy's patience.

-Day three features my dad taking Janie and Thomas to church by himself. My dear son aimed for the toilet, but hit grampy. Body Count: One freshly dry-cleaned suit.

-You would think that by Monday, we mothers would have figured out that the boys should not be left alone together for very long. Alas, we were enjoying our freedom a little too much. I can't even blame this one on having to go to the bathroom. Elle (Danny's mom) and I  were enjoying a pleasant, kid-free conversation when we heard the dreaded sound of tinkling breakable materials. Suddenly the couch cushions were hot potatoes and our buns bounded right off them. We scurried after the sound and walked in on Thomas wielding an handmade, antique, but very sturdy, rolling pin. He had it raised in both hands high above his head, ready for the burst of energy that would bring its downfall. Elle yelped at him to stop and, thankfully, he listened. We managed to get the two boys (and the now very curious Janie, Berto) out of the room. The target of Thomas's attempted bludgeoning was a pile of shattered china doll, his handiwork. The best we can figure (or hope) is that Thomas and Danny were climbing the boxes in the closet and knocked one over. As it fell, the china doll fell out and broke. Thomas's curiosity got the better of him and he just couldn't wait to see how it worked. Danny, also curious, watched and encouraged the destruction. We suspect this chain of events to be accurate because none of the several other fragile antiques or papers in the box were at all harmed. The box was immediately moved into the grandparents' bedroom. Body Count: one egg-holding china doll, a moment on Antiques Roadshow.

I'm only halfway through our vacation at this point, folks. 

The next three days of cousin fun brought less-large-scale adventures but plenty more small-scale moments. These include but are not limited to the following:

-Several tantrums and emotional breakdowns regarding carseats, seatbelts, and general travel tears. Body Count: many many many tears.

-A giant exercise ball getting thrown into a table lamp, knocking it over. Luckily, the lamp in question was made of sturdy metal and the oversized lampshade protected the bulb, thereby keeping the item intact. Body Count: 1 six-year-old ego.

-Toilet paper (or lack thereof) troubles. Body Count: Three toilets in need of plunging, three walls, one countertop, one cupboard door, one green stool, two full rolls of toilet paper, and two washclothes.

-The Ranch Dressing Pool (see post 164. "Thomas and the Paper Plate"). Body Count: About 1/4cup unsalvageable dressing, Thomas's condiment privileges.

-The Highchair Pair. We have two highchair-aged babies but only one highchair. This has mostly resulted in Berto and James taking turns eating. Occasionally, though, they just couldn't wait and one would ear in the highchair while the other (usually Berto) sat beneath him, picking rejects off the floor. Body Count: caring.

-Thomas believing he was at a nude beach. Again I am willing to take partial blame on this one. When we went to the splash pad I packed a swimming suit for Berto and I instructed Janie to put hers on. Because I couldn't find Thomas's, I just decided to let him play in this clothes. What I DIDN'T think about was the return trip. Or the fact that Thomas would want to change into a swimming suit. So we were all quite surprised when suddenly my three-year-old was butt naked and running toward the water features. Go me. We did manage to get him to put his shorts and shirt back on, though we saved the underwear for afterward. Also, forgot to bring panties for Janie. Go Mom. Body Count: modesty.

-Thomas randomly biting other kids. Completely out of the blue. We were all lying around around, coloring a giant cardboard castle (because my mom is a cool grandma like that!) and all of a sudden he turns his body and bites down on Janie's arm. It left a bruise. Later the same evening he also bit Danny. Body Count: two arms.

-Thomas (anyone else seeing a pattern here?) hiding things in his pockets. We went to a children's museum and upon leaving discovered that Thomas had stuffed his pockets full of Checkers pieces. Apparently I didn't search him well enough though, because he handed me two more pieces once we were out of the building. Body Count: my dignity as a mother

-The ever-shrinking wardrobe. I packed enough clothing to last six days, though our trip is supposed to last nine. I figured Day six would be laundry day. By day four Thomas was completely out of clean clothes. I washed everything. Three days later he was out again. Body Count: my math skills, apparently.

-The Butt Paste: it was everywhere. Body Count: very high.

-Locked Doors: Someone (most likely Thomas) has been locking doors and then shutting them, from the outside. Body Count: 4 bobby pins, Grammy's patience.

-Latest, but probably not last was the Game Closet. Janie, Danny, and Thomas were told to clean up the room they've been sharing. Apparently they took that to mean "take half the games from the bottom shelf in the game closet and dump them on the bedroom floor, then mix everything up and throw it all around." Body Count: 

1 boggle die, 1 rummikub tile, 2 game boxes, and probably more pieces we don't yet know about..

We still have about 36 hours left until we head home, and then another 10+ hour car ride. Elle and I joked that the only thing left for them to do is break a bone (that was before the game closet incident). Hopefully it doesn't come to that.

All of this being said, I really do love my children and my nephews. They have had a wonderful time playing together. We have played hard every day and been worn out every night. We toured a C-130, colored a castle, went to the zoo, the splash pad, the park, and two museums. We've snuggled and hugged and tickled and had an absolute blast. This family is my everything and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

165.Haiku to Poop

He didn't plug it

The third time he could have done

He spread it instead

164. Thomas and the Paper Plate Full of Ranch

Exaggeration not included.

Thomas had a plateful of ranch dressing at lunch. I mean, I appreciate a bit of dressing with my chicken strips, too, but there's a limit. If the limit was Kansas, Thomas went past Mars.

By "a plateful" I don't mean that he had a bit too much and he smeared it around until there was a big mess. No, that would have been too...ordinary. 

If you've been following the stories that have riddled my life this week, you'll have learned that Thomas is hell-bent on impressing and out-naughtying his cousin Danny. The two boys are 11 months apart, the perfect duo of destruction.  Granted, most of the misbehavior has been performed by my devious darling with Danny merely adding his encouragement, but I swear he's doing it to show off for his older and cooler cousin.

Side note: I really should have thought this one through a bit better before putting seven kids (ages 14 months to 7 years) in the dining room together and walking out to "eat in peace." I know, Motherhood 101, right here. I fully accept the deserved blame there. But I was unaware that the condiments had also been left on the table. That one was not my fault.

So when my friend's seven-year-old daughter came out and said "umm one of those boys is putting all the [ranch] on his plate" my sister-in-law and I both figured it was our own child. I was closer to the door so I responded.

She. Was. Not. Exaggerating.

I walked in to find Thomas holding the bottle of ranch upside down over his plate, squeezing with all his might. Thankfully my parents invested in middle-grade paper plates instead of the cheap-of-the-cheap, because his plate was FILLED. You know those commercials where they put a quarter on a wet piece of toilet paper and it rips right through the "other brand"? Yeah, that would have happened. But thankfully my mom had the foresight to buy better paper plates, ones that had a nice, stiff, fairly deep rim around it. 

Betcha didn't know you could hold a whole bottle's worth of dressing on a single paper plate. I now do.

It was filled. A good 3/4 cm deep. If you think that's not a lot, go try it out.

Filled.

The good news is that because his plate was previously so clean, I was able to return most of the dressing back into its bottle once I popped the squeezey lid off. 

Oh yeah, he didn't have the whole, gaping neck that no one likes. No, he squeezed it all through that teeny tiny little "no spill" top. 

Boys are joys.

163. Pig Haiku

Pet or pork or pay

Intelligently he runs

Go little swine, go

162. Gentlemen

Moroni is a master

Heleman a hunk

Nephi's like a ninja

Pacumeni a punk

Alma is amazing

Lehi loves a lot

Gideon is gallant

But Nehor? He is not.

161. Music

I love the way

This music makes me feel

It makes me tap my foot

From toe to heel

I love the way 

It dances through my veins

I hear and feel the music

In my brain

160. yes to the dress

The dress, the dress

To which she said yes

Lacy and white

Beaded and bright

My sister said yes to the dress

159. Halted

So I'm sitting here on the freeway, writing to you from the driver's seat. "Heaven forbid" you cry. "That's so dangerous!" "Put down your phone!" "You're going to get someone killed!" 

Nope. I promise you, the only one who is going to get killed is the mosquito that flew in my open windows. Why? I'm not moving. Not a bit. Those little baby herons (which are adorable!) are moving faster than me. That leaf that just fell off that tree is moving faster than me. That weird looking beetle next to my car is moving faster than me. 

I've had 5 hr 19 min staring at me from Google Maps for the last 17 minutes. At one point today my ETA  was 5:11 PM. It currently reads 7:37 PM. I don't think I'll be able to make that up. 

So, funny stories from this trip so far? Well, about two miles back I told my sister I was grateful that both of my boys were asleep for this mess. About thirty seconds later, Janie got bored, so she poked Berto until he woke up. He was displeased and let her know it. His screaming woke Thomas up. Now Janie is complaining because she's sleepy and Berto won't be quiet and let her fall asleep. Yup.

Let's see, what else? There was a guy in a white car (yeah, that's pretty much as far as my car designations go) who tries to go up the shoulder and get past everyone. I guess he didn't realize that there were two cops about three cars ahead of me. He got pulled over. 

Then there was the lady who rolled her window down to tell me I had my hands full (gee, I had no idea!) and the truck that had BUTT written in the dirt on its rear doors. 

Also, what is the point of a McDonald's without a playplace? Who decided that should be a thing? The whole purpose of going to McDonald's is to let your kids get some energy out. It's certainly not because the food is stellar. 

Speaking of McDonald's (because I'm still at 5 hr 19 min), they currently have mini beanie babies in their happy meals, and though I don't normally care about McDonald's toys, I have to give them (or I guess TY) props for their naming choices. The lion's name is bushy. Makes sense. The seal is Seamore. Clever, right? Twiggy the giraffe, cause he's tall and lanky. Love it. But my favorite is Chocolate. Guess what kind of animal Chocolate is.

Ready for this?

It's a moose...

Ba dum chh!!!

Get it? Major props.

Woo! 5hr 18!

Update: I did eventually get out of the standstill. Additional story: about ten minutes before we got clear of the blockage, the obnoxious guy in the car in front of me gave up and took the "emergency vehicle" crossover. Sucks to be him.

Original ETA 5:11PM

Actual Time of Arrival 9:14PM

158. Haiku to Packing

Crease the close-knot cloth

Ever into smaller squares

Tidiness is key

157. My Brother's Nose

My dear big brother, I love you,

I lit'rally look up to you.

I touch your face to show my love

When up your nose my fingers shove.

Because your nose is warm and nice

It does my curiosity entice.

You pull away; I think it's fun.

And so you hit me 'cause you're done.

But still I think you're pretty great,

That's why your boogers I just ate.

156. The Raven

My, my, 

how does the raven fly

Over the mountains

Across the sky

Why does he try, the raven shy?

Why does the raven fly?

155.I Am The Lone Amalekite

When I heard that the King's sons were in the land, I marveled at their audacity. Our people had made our position clear. Our fathers left the Nephite traditions behind them. We scorned them. They were outdated and simple, the ideals of times past. We had moved on to better lives, better purposes. And here they were again, begging for us to come back to them. My father scoffed. My brothers scoffed. And I scoffed. 

I went to hear their preaching with my brothers, not because we expected them to change our minds, but because we wanted to show them the errors of their ways. Of course. The law forbade any physical abuse to them, but it said nothing about embarrassing them. We arrived with our dungheaps and our ale. I was no better than anyone there. 

But I was caught by surprise. I was raised to believe Mosiah was a heathen, that his sons were simpletons, fit only to spout the lies of the ancients. And yet, I saw in them myself. When Aaron spoke, I heard the words of my grandmother's stories. She only ever spoke them when we were alone, grinding the meal from the maize. She spoke of a mighty creator, a savior for all mankind. And Aaron described the same. 

I could not throw the dung.

I said nothing until we returned home. Clearly none of my brothers knew or remembered the stories that grandmother shared. I waited, listening, hoping someone would speak kindly of the Nephites' words. But there was nothing but coarseness and disgust. There was talk of traps, or ambushes and midnight beatings. When talk became plans I knew I could wait no longer. 

As the sun began to rest, I set out to find the princes. I could not stop my brothers, but I could warn these men away from the destruction that awaited them, even if it meant my own disgrace.

I ran to Aaron and his brothers. They listened to my words and heeded me. Before the gates were sealed, they were gone. But I was discovered and the evil energy reserved for the sons of Nephites was laid on me. I was kicked, pummeled, stoned, spat upon, dragged, and thrown. Thankfully my mind closed itself before my brothers finished delivering my punishment. My last thought, my dying hope, was that by seeing to the safety of the Lord's messengers, I might be granted mercy and forgiveness for my own foul trespasses. 

I simultaneously rejoiced and despaired when I woke again. How I came to be outside the city walls, I know not. Every part of me ached. I slept and woke, slept and woke. I felt the presence and pecking of many fowl, but was fortunate that no larger predator braved to wander so near our population. For two days I rested at the edge of the forest, waiting either to die or to live. Finally, my desperation for what overcame the pain in my limbs and I dragged myself into the thick of the forest, following the paths of woodland creatures to a pool of fresh water. I drank and I slept. 

I awoke again to my own scream and the pain that seared through my foot. Instantly the pain abated, but throbbed with every passing second. Quick hands cleaned and bandaged the freshly flowing blood from my leg. Herbed water poured into my mouth, bringing sweet relief in the form of more sleep.

I woke again and found my wounds were cleaned, an unfamiliar cloak spread over me. Voices whispered urgently behind me. I turned to discover the source and found two men, Nephites by apparel, crouched before a fire. One looked to me and saw me watching. The whispers ceased immediately and the man came to my side and looked over my bandaged wounds. He asked me if I hungered and then he, Aaron, the eldest son of the Nephite king, fed me broth as if I were his precious child. He cared for me until I was able to travel. I later learned that he had sent his party on ahead to safety in the land of Ishmael while only he and Adoni stayed to care for me, an Amalekite of low birth. When my injuries permitted, we traveled on, the two great Nephites half-carrying me in turns until we arrived at the great house of Anti-Nephi-Lehi. 

There I stayed, cared for and nursed to full health by the medicine man to the great Lamanite king. As I recovered, Aaron and his brothers taught me the remainder of the truth of God. They gladly shared in whole with me the stories and truths that my grandmother feared to share and so only gave pieces. Now, I know.

My friendship with Aaron has remained steady and strong through the trials that my father's people have caused to us. Though I was an Amalekite by birth, I am one of the people of Ammon by choice. In my heritage I am alone, but in my inheritance, I am one of thousands.

154. Fresh Bread

Flour is bland, powdery, white.

Water just emptiness.

Milk and butter, the staples of life

Salt and sugar a mess.

None alone have scent very strong,

Nothing to write home about.

But put them together and what do you get?

A heavenly scent for your snout.

153.Hair Today, Where Tomorrow

Strong Samson fell without his mane, deceived by one in dresses.

Rapunzel could not lift her prince without her silky tresses.

Would Goldilocks be bold enough without her golden locks?

Would fair Snow White with hair pale brown still sit there darning socks?

What of the hair makes heroes strong, why deemed significant?

How would their stories different be if details here were bent?

If now a change is made upon my little daughter's head,

Should I expect a change in her? A stranger in her stead? 

152. Jessa and the Beanstalk (12)

I circled wide around my beanstalk, trying to decide how best to test its powers. Clearly Walter's presence changed it somehow, but how exactly, I didn't know. So I did the only thing that made sense to me.

I pushed him again, this time into the beanstalk, and, again, it disappeared.

He yelled in frustration, but I didn't hear what he said. I dropped to the ground, pushing his feet to the side, searching for any indication of the beanstalk' presence. There was nothing. No tendrils like on sunny days. No hardened or clumped ground where the stalk met soil. It was empty. 

I heard my name hugged from above me and peered up to find Walter looking at me in utter bewilderment. Poor guy. But I had to know. Putting on my kindest voice I asked him to take a few steps backward. 

"What is this about, Jessa? First you run off, then you push me around for no reason, now you're acting like a nutter. I know you try to be different from the other girls in town, but this is a bit much, even for you."

I couldn't help but laugh. I cackled, really. But how else do you cover pain? He was right. I was different from all the others. I didn't want to spend my days making butter or patching clothes. I didn't want to marry Peter Feffelhurst and produce baby after baby until I was old and dried up and coarse. I wanted my own adventures. Was that so wrong? My cackles turned to hysterics and my hysterics turned to tears. "I'm sorry" I whispered. I didn't know what I was sorry for, exactly. Sorry for not being like everyone else. Sorry for pushing him. Sorry for being crazy. Sorry for having this fit. Sorry for being trapped in this world. Just sorry.

My heaving sobs abating, I rested my head on my knees, trying to calm my heart. This never would have happened if I had stayed in the clouds, I thought. I needed a way to stay longer. I had never tried staying past sunset. When my white world turned golden, I always returned home. But this time, the next time I went up, I would see what happened when the gold turned black. 

Steeling myself, I looked up, but was surprised to find Walter kneeling in front of me, his eyes level with mine. "I like that you're different from them, Jess. I like your stories and your drawings. I'm sorry that I upset you. I didn't mean to. I just worry about you when you disappear. I..." he stammered, "I think maybe that I love you."

Walter loved me? I blinked. "But I'm weird," I blurted stupidly. 

Walter laughed. "And stubborn and bossy." I cocked my eyebrow at him. This is really how you tell a girl you love her? But then he put his hand over mine gently and said "and that's what I love about you. You see things differently than any other girl I've met. You are smart and funny and creative. Do you know every day that you don't come into town I spend trying to come up with new ways to impress you? But half the time I fail because you already know what I've spent weeks trying to learn or you come up with a better way to build what I design."

I chuckle at this, remembering the well pulley he created for the Leibovitzes. After only two weeks I had adjusted it to pull enough water not only for their kitchen needs, but also for their two closest neighbors, and had laid troughs to carry the water out for them.

I bite my bottom lip, sucking it in as I make a decision. Walter quirks a smile, like he knows he's about to win. He wants to get out of this town as much as I do. He's talked about it almost as much as I've thought about it. Perhaps, sharing my world wouldn't be so bad after all. 

"Walter," I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut. Here goes. "Can you keep a secret?"