the daily betrayal

This morning I watched some old Pink Panther cartoons with Keaton before work.  It was awesome.  It was an awesome feeling, almost like when I was a little kid.

It was early enough that the light was that kind of all-over light where the sun isn’t up it’s just all-around.  It was foggy or just morning cloudy; the light diffused through all that water in the air and just was.  Keaton was in her Tangled PJs, blue bottoms with flowers and a big Rapunzel on the top, and I was in boxers and a white undershirt, beard still wet from the shower (no hair left to be damp, it’s the beard’s job now).  Sharaun and Cohen were still asleep.  Keaton cuddled up to me and jammed her feet under my thighs to keep warm.  I tucked her hair behind her ear (for some reason I love doing that) and patted her knee and laughed with her.

We watched about ten minutes together.  I didn’t want to go to work.  I could’ve made a pot of coffee and turned off my phone so the rapid-fire click, click, click of e-mail didn’t remind me of my delinquency.

At 7:50am I left it all.  My daughter, Pink Panther, the couch, the everywhere light of morning.  Left it all and went to work.


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