Sunday, February 16, 2014

around the corner

The toe is okay but the child is restless.  She stares out the window leaving behind prints of her nose and finger tips on the glass.  In the right light they appear to be a lost flock of butterflies some with wind torn wings. I believe I have seen the imprint of a foot too.  She would have had to have put it up over her head but for her that wouldn't have been such an uncommon way to stand.  
I follow her trail and find her in the yard staring at the long fence line.  "We need a horse."  She raises her face to the air; it is too warm for February.  "Can we go for a walk?" Before I can say yes she adds, "And buy a horse?" 

As we walk she drifts and ask if we might could possibly move.  She wants to move.  Almost as badly as she wants a horse. I suggest the next time her father is out of town on business we pack up the whole house.  Place everything in the front yard, then move back in.  She claps  her hands together like a toddlers dropping her voice forward a decade, "oh we should..."
"I'm curious, what room would you pick?" She laughs, "I would pick MY room.  It is the best one."  "We bought this house to put down roots." I tell her picturing unknown future grandchildren running through an orchard we have yet to establish.  My mind  wanders grape vines and raspberries bushes that when I planted them I did so conscience of the intent to see them grow old.  But somewhere out in the garden I realize I don't know which room I would choose.  The house has always been an afterthought.  "I think I regret not taking one of the rooms on the main floor." I tell her.  But she has already jumped.  "Where did these puddles come from? I don't remember these before?"

In the world around us it is raining all but for the actually falling of rain.  The sky is grey and the early evening light has the weight of hard weather.  We follow the sound of geese and the silence of a lone beaver up river.  We joke, "A spring is not made by one robin" while standing under a tree its top decorated with fat red belly birds.    

At home in the oven 4 large potatoes are baking.  I know this walk so well I have timed them to be ready right as we walk back in the door.  I have no idea where the other members of our family are or when they will return. Or if we will eat alone.

Later in the night after a dinner of steaming soft potato bellies sliced open, filled with melting butter, topped with sprinkles of salt & pepper, a thick bowl of tomato soup on the side...after reading on the sofa... after walking through the squishy darkness to soak in the soft hot water of the hot tub, she lay on our bed.  The only light in the room coming from the little screen of her kindle.  She rolls around watching Pink Panther Cartoons.  Showing me how she doesn't care for the modern ones but prefers the originals and how to tell them apart.  Then she announces she is tired and going to bed leaving behind her stuffed rabbit on my pillow.

It never did rain but I spent all night dreaming about moving and how much fun it would be to start over.       



1 comment:

  1. We were looking for you on this day. Feeling the same restlessness. Maybe no one needs to move...maybe the skin just needs sunshine. This is a beautiful description of weight. The weight of roots, and of weather on a day when you just want to fly.

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