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It All Goes So Fast
It was already 9:00pm. June, who should have been in bed two hours ago, was laying pantless on our bed wearing goulashes and a t-shirt, watching Puffin Rock. A more consistent parent might have insisted she go to bed, but as she laid there, I just couldn’t. Sean and I spent the evening sorting through old albums and boxes of pictures. For quite some time, they have been not so nicely tucked away in a big tote whose lid couldn’t even close. Storage wise, it isn’t ideal. And more than that, all of these beautiful photos weren’t being enjoyed. The lull of this endless winter and the knowledge of our…
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“Mop”
The evening air is still, no breeze, just bugs floating in heavy clouds around our heads. Sean is mowing the grass and June wanders aimlessly with a pot and a stick that she likes to call “mop.” Over and over again she says, “mop, mop, mop” despite our attempts to get her to say “pot” or “stick”. This word, “mop” is used inside when she is pretend baking, as well. I have taken it to mean something like, “stir” or “bake”. All day long, we hear “mop, mop, mop”. And this evening, as I sit in the garden bed, pulling weeds and unwanted grasses, she sings it to me, “mop,…
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A Good Bird
I awoke early this morning from a startling dream where the world was on fire and I was on the run. In the dream, I was not myself, but instead, a young boy, driven from his home and searching for safety. When I opened my eyes, my bedroom was still the deep black of morning and Sean was still gone. I went downstairs to make my coffee and turn up the thermostat, determined to shake the nightmare and begin my day fresh. Today, June and I will travel to Arkansas to visit old friends. It has been one year since I’ve traveled alone with her and I am unsure what…
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Monday, again. Snow, again.
I awake to raw snow and sore limbs, still nagging from Saturday morning’s yoga class. Last night’s dreams of conversations with friends made my mind feel as if I hadn’t slept at all, but my rested body argued otherwise. Rolling over at 5:00, I realized I hadn’t woken once during the night- how thrilling to rise before your coffee pot, ready to start the day. I look out the window as I wait for it to brew, feeling a piece of me stolen with the freshly covered earth. Snow, like practiced thieves and seasoned gray wolves, does its best work, unwarranted, under darkness. For almost ten days I have been…
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Coffee on My White Shirt
I spilled coffee on my white t-shirt this morning. It only seems appropriate. June and I both slept later than normal, too. There seems no reason to rush into the morning. Everything that is going to happen today is already set into motion. I watch the inauguration events unfold on television like a holiday party, plates and napkins here and forks to the right. I drink what is left of my coffee and intentionally fix the look on my face. Down the street, the morning sky idles soundless over the ocean. Like a child pressed to her mother’s breast, you cannot tell where one begins and the other ends, and…