Last night, we went to the pier to watch the sunset. It was very calming for Sophia. The water. The sky. The smell in the air. My mind was playing tricks on me because everything normal was infused with meaning, even the kids who were fishing off the end of the pier. I was rooting for the fish not to be fooled by the lure. Why should they be put into unnecessary danger? I wanted them to swim away.. safely.
I told Sophia about a new restaurant that opened, a real dive, but with excellent homemade Lebanese/Pakistani food (the female cook is Lebanese and the male owner is Pakistani), so we went there for dinner. The owners were clearly Muslim, which didn’t stop Sophia from telling them how she lived in Israel and was Jewish, and loved this type of food. The owners didn’t seem to care what we were, and kept on bringing us free samples to try. Sophia told the woman that she had surgery tomorrow, and the information brought out the mother in this female cook. She put some extra spices into the food, saying they are healing, and then promised to pray to Allah for her health.
It is now five in the morning. I am in the living room. I slept on the couch. Sophia is upstairs. She sleeps better by herself. I hope she got a good night sleep. She needs it. I wish I was upstairs with her. I’d like to be able to calm her. Hell, I could use some calming myself.
Maybe I’ll go back to sleep for another hour. We don’t have to leave until nine o’clock, but I wanted to clean out the car before we left and do another wash in the laundry. I have to remember that Sophia can’t drink anything today, even water. I’m not sure why. It is very hot in Los Angeles, which sucks, since we don’t have air-conditioning. Even Griffith Park is burning.
I wish I was upstairs, listening to Sophia breath as she soundly sleeps. I wish I was upstairs, kissing her, tasting her sweetness.