Some disorganized thoughts

I've been so confused lately. I love my sisters, and poor Alexei needs us, although he is not as bad as he sometimes can be, not writhing in pain, just uncomfortable and weak. Mama is exhausted from the traveling we've been doing. Dr. Botkin has ordered her to rest. Anya, Nastinka and Isa are—Mama's best friend and her two principal maids of honor—have been taking on more and more of Mama's duties for her, going to visit hospitals and distributing alms to the poor.

I have a vague feeling of disquiet. I'm not sure where it's coming from. Oh, no one in my family knows. I still play the impish rogue, getting them all to laugh whenever I can. Sometimes I even convince myself something is funny.

Perhaps my feeling will dissipate when we go to Livadia, or when we board the Standart for our annual cruise around the beautiful coastline of Finland. I should be happy. I have this wonderful secret that I can dream about before I go to sleep, and think of when I awake. But I cannot shake a feeling that storm clouds are gathering above us.