Two days ago we drove from Corvallis to Newport and camped at South Beach. Michael hooked our rolling cabin up to electricity and water and after an hour of coaxing the camp fire, he grilled ling cod. I read aloud from My Family and Other Animals. We laughed with little Lawrence who observes with scrupulous detail the awkwardness of tortises mating in his Greek garden. Then we went to sleep. In the morning we stretched inside our Tokyo apt, then we biked on moss-green pavement through the pines and dunes. The wind came up. Sand and leaves flew in our faces. Rain chased us back to camp for homeschool. Jake analyzed whether a box and whisker plot or a stem and leaf plot is a better way to analyse rainfall. Then he read a chapter about Babylonian society from his history textbook. Afterward, I asked him if he’d ever written a persuasive essay. He said not exactly but he liked the idea and asked if he could write about Hannibal’s empire. Ideally, he would pick Hamurabi’s Code, since that’s what’s up in history this week. But I’m picking my battles. He wrote for half an hour and read us his thesis. Then we drove south along the central coast, stopping at Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. We took off our shoes and ran over hill and dale of dunes, watching for razor clam shells and studying some fellows who were doing tai’chi on a dune, as still and erect as egrets. In response, Mike and Jake wrestled and tossed themselves down the sandhills like seals.

Later, at dinner in our new camp at Coos Bay, Jake picked at his kale and sausage over pasta. He ate the sausage, then the bowtie, and then threw the kale out window. Exiled from the steamy bento-box house, he said “I hate you” and lay on a picnic table arms crossed, sighing heavily.  After twenty minutes I tried to get him to come back inside. He would not. Michael suggested a hat and a coat along with a flashlight and some matches. He accepted these items along with my addition of a hot chocolate. Then he made a small fire which sputtered out in the rain. Michael and I tried to focus on editing a short movie about cooking dinner in the motorhome. I could see Jake’s little fire struggling. Then Jake came back inside, straining his face into large frowns. We accepted his suggestion to play poker. Jake loved it, nearly tearful at his losses and laughing uproariously at his winnings. We all crawled into our burrows by 10:30. Into the dark I said, “I love you guys.” He answered. “love you too.”