We played for half hour, before Rohan got restless and got into a wrestling match with Raj. It tugged me to look at them together, engrossed in their fisticuffs, Rohan’s big eyes scrunched with joy, laughter floating like confetti upon the gladdened air. For once, Raj was home when Ro was still awake and my little boy was lit up like a Christmas tree.
How often a scene like this would play out in DC! The ordinariness of it tugged my heart. If not on week nights, then at least the weekend made up for it the rushed week and long hours that America is famous for. But here, even the ordinary seemed implausible, a thing of myths and fables, and Time was like this slippery devil, taunting, morphing flubber-like to expand for those who didn’t value its precision, its finiteness. It was a different system.
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