for the first three seconds he holds clair, roy is overcome with wonder, joy, and love for his niece. the following three seconds he contemplates how far he could get before his absence is considered "kidnapping". roy has always been good with babies, all of them have, with a slew of younger siblings to help care for each of the sommer children were thrown into child rearing one way or another. for roy's older brothers and sister this meant constant affirmation, bandaging scrapes, holding whoever was younger as they wept, lecturing, and filling in the other various blanks their mother and father wouldn't. for roy it had meant holding noah, then carl, and now clair. clair, with big hazel eyes. clair, with the stupid middle name. clair elstar, whose cheeks match her namesake.

it's cold but that doesn't stop them from sticking their feet in the mud, rinsing off in the lake. three pigs circle the edges and test the waters only to retreat back to the hole they've dug. roy admires their consistency, joins them, mud up to his thighs at first and then it's everywhere. it's cold but that doesn't stop him from behaving like he's seven years old again, flat on his back at the bottom of a mud hole with only sky to look at. his mind wanders to los angeles, to the bottom of another pit dug not by pigs but by him and his sister. he spirals into the nostalgia for three months ago, until his vision of the sky is obscured by dark brown hair and an eye roll. roy, shirtless and caked in mud, finally realizes just how cold it is.

14.7. How my hair looks good even when I don't make an effort.
15.7. How I genuinely enjoy manual labor.
16.7. My curiosity about other people, how it's easy for me to make friends anywhere.
17.7. I'm always looking for a constructive answer. I guess this can be bad, some things don't need to be fixed, but I like that I have the intent to grow.
18.7. How good I look in highwaisted trousers.
19.7. My knowledge of 80s alternative and new wave.