Journal, Day 70

The benefactor was unyielding in her demand that the children hike into the village center for its annual Indian Art Festivities. Only the eldest male was permitted to forgo the event due to extreme illness.  The youngest female, barely four blocks in, began requesting the group stop and sit on a bench, heavily whining when they would not stop. The youngest male, on the other hand, seemed determined to walk at the pace of a rabid dog, refusing to wait for the rest of the party. He also kept collecting live leafs from trees, which brought him an ear beating from both the benefactor and the eldest female on climate change.
 
After a forty-minute trek, the plaza was reached. Stretching for what appeared to be miles in all directions, white booths and throngs of people flooded the narrow, brick streets. Immediately, the youth demanded to be taken to the sweets shop in exchange for the effort made in getting there. There, they agonized over penny candy and lollipops, finally making their difficult decisions on what hyper-inducing sweets they would purchase.
 
Next on the agenda was seeking out the booth with roasted corn, a yearly tradition. After finally finding it on a side street, the benefactor and children waited for what felt like eons, primarily because some of the sugar had been ingested and standing still seemed like an impossibility. Finally, they relished the smoky corn with butter and chile, the benefactor’s favorite part of the event.
 
They then sought out the frybread station, which proved more challenging, until the youngest male observed smoke in the air at the end of another side street, where booths of food purveyors lined the sidewalks promising the sweet, deep fried pastry. After another wait of epic proportions, they finally took their heavenly, plate sized breads to a quiet corner to enjoy them, where the youngest male promptly knocked his and the elder female’s frybread into a plant. Luckily it was quickly retrieved and little damage done, the five second rule put into fast effect.
 
After examining the skill on display at various booths, it was time to head home. On the return, a deep-seated discussion about racism and geography pitted the elder female and youngest male. It eventually deteriorated into a conversation between two people talking at each other and ignoring the aspect of listening, with the elder female then walking at an extreme pace to be away from the rest of the pack.
 
Arriving home, the younger children were forced to go to the market with the benefactor to gather provisions for the week. As soon as they arrived in the store, they grabbed a basket on wheels and took off with a healthy stride to the sample counter, where they lingered a bit too long, taking one too many paper cups of hummus and cucumber. The benefactor deduced this by the side eye given to the them from the market worker who had to cut said cucumbers. Finally back on track, they gathered their items and processed to the money line to pay for their goods. The younger male unexpectedly and eagerly jumped up on the counter to sit, knocking over an entire bag full to the brim with packed groceries, scattering heirloom tomatoes everywhere. The benefactor could only sigh.
 
Home, the benefactor unpacked the goods and prepared a light meal, while the children readied themselves for their educational endeavors awaiting the next day. After eating and partaking in the media box for a short bit, the children were ushered upstairs to bed.
 
At three in the morning, the youngest female snuck into the benefactor’s sleep space, needing to know if she had prepared a specific letter for her teacher. The benefactor sleepily assured her she had, and the youngest female informed her she never planned on sleeping alone before plunking herself into the benefactor’s bed.