It is raining.

It is raining.

It is raining heavily on this late Sunday morning. I am snug in my Starbucks seat with iced brewed coffee, piped-in Merseyside beats playing; the daddy in front of me eating baby food (out of a bottle) that his baby boy cannot finish. The baby boy is in his lap, asleep. The mummy gets to eat her breakfast in peace, and steal precious moments with the daddy as baby sleeps.

I somehow feel at home.

Yesterday wasn't the best of days, neither was it the best. There were so many moments of the day that I felt so unsettled, though I cannot put my finger on. The evening was especially edgy; I was expecting the worst, and the worst came as the night wore on.

But it is Sunday today, and Saturday is now past. Yet I feel this unsettling brewing, and it is slightly frustrating not knowing what this all means; perhaps it is the caffeine over-load from the work-week. The daddy puts the baby boy back into his pram. The baby sleeps.I do wonder if the mummy and daddy feel unsettled too. With the two working as a team, perhaps not.

It continues to pour.

Uncle T