peace cranes

By 8:30 I had already separated the kids several times. Storyteller brought me a paper crane he'd folded. (Five minutes earlier I'd heard him say, "Oh, I've heard of Sadako.") Story had made a lovely little one and he looked at me with his heart open as I took it in my hands. I thought of the usual thousand, imagined them all over the floor, and wished I could see such a sedge about eight few feet higher. I thought of the thread I inherited from Grandma, no longer machine worthy but holding sentimental meaning. I said, "If you fold a whole bunch of those I'll hang them from the ceiling." Story said, "Okay! Hey guys, want to help?" Now those cranes are really peace cranes because my boys, with busy fingers and heads bowed, are not arguing anymore.