Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

One day home and I admit to being comforted by the routines, cooking, seeing my kids and grandkids and my own bed and pillow.  We still had trouble sleeping last night, but we did finally get back to sleep again in the early morning, wrapped around each other despite the heat.  I had a dream about Ramiza's ashes, that they were in a hard metal disk, and I woke up disoriented, but I made scones with dried cherries and chocolate chips, and the baking soothed me.  Still many things I have an aversion to thinking about, but I'm being kind to myself.  I can face those later.  I ordered three mysteries for escape and pleasure, but am reading again a bit.  A biography about a man's father who was a communist and brought up on charges in Michigan in the fifties.  I find myself interested in the era, when I was a small child and knew nothing about politics.  I wish I knew nothing now, as everything I seem to learn is distressing.