It rained today as Emma and I walked to school.  It had started in the night, great gusts of wind and rain hammering at the windows in my bedroom under the eaves.  Emma, as used to be the case when David traveled more, slept with me.  It had been months since she’d joined me.  Her long legs migrated to my side of the mattress and her heat woke me before the rain.  Only a few inches shorter than I am, Emma had suddenly taken over not just my bed but my body, in a way.  She sprawled, jack-knifed, splayed and scrambled in her dreams until I had to shove her away.  I lay in the dark listening to the storm pass through Cambridge and (after the obligatory dead of night stumble to the bathroom) thought about what I’d do the next day if the rain continued.