A/R (author's rant): I've truly disliked the first half of Season 6, and I'm in no way looking forward to the second half. The characters who used to make me desperate for each new scene as much as each new episode have been painfully distorted, if not permanently obliterated, and I hold no hope of ever seeing them again. The thought of a Season 7, with Sera G. at the helm fills me with despair.


I'm seven and Sammy turns three tomorrow. He's got a cold and when when he cries he sounds like a goose. It's a little after nine. Dad's at the table, drinking coffee and reading newspapers. I'm in bed with Sammy. He's swaddled in blankets and bundled up in my arms, breathing through his mouth, chubby and asleep.

We knew he was sick as soon as he woke up this morning and didn't burst out of bed. It was a 'down' day for us, with the latest hunt over and Dad hunting the next hunt with newspapers and phone calls.

Sammy was clingy, all day he followed me everywhere, close on my heels, or Dad's heels, with Binkie, his skuzzy, raggy, safety blanket held tight in one hand, and the tail of my shirt, or Dad's shirt, held tight in the other.

By afternoon, Sammy was a fixture in Dad's arms. Dad had to make dinner - reheating leftover Kentucky Fried chicken, biscuits and mashed potatoes - one handed, and eat dinner one handed, with Sammy droopy and drowsing in his lap.

Later, when Dad said it was time for me to go to bed, Sam reached right out for me and that's how I'm in bed with him now. He's warm and sweaty against my chest, head back to breathe, his cheek on my collarbone, his hair tickling my chin, and just about every other place on my face.

Every once in awhile Sammy coughs, and whimpers in his goose voice, and burrows closer to me. Tomorrow there'll be chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and McDonalds and presents for dinner, and by bedtime Sammy will be fine and bursting into life again, three years old and ready to take on the world.

For now, I make sure he stays close in my arms, and I fall asleep with his head on my neck and his breath on my chin and his hair on my mouth, and his trust in me the best thing ever.

The End