milk and toast and honey, and a bowl of oranges, too

April 5, 2007 | Filed Under ordinary 

this morning we woke to cold that snuck on a dreaming wave into our room and wiggled down slightly under the covers. i was dreaming in LOST and didn’t want to wake up. barefeet complain and ask for socks. i wish that coffee sounded good to me and remember that it will sound good again soon.

my ten free trees from the arbor day people arrived in a solitary and rather sorry looking package. when planted, they will look like the twigs that henry sticks into the ground when building fences behind which he hides trucks and soldiers. someone will step on, mow over, drive atop them and that will be that. the pink dogwood across the street throws out her branches in a reach for the white dogwood around the corner of the neighboring house. the lazy splay of flowering sticks are careless as i look at my twigs and wonder exactly what to do.

we bake bread every other day in this house this week. teaching is nearly non-existent this week as we’re on a spring break. we bake bread and cookies and yucky granola bars and shining bread that everyone eats with honey for breakfast and snacks. “how virtuous you are!” sharon says and we, for some reason, snicker together. the boys and i read books in the bed and clean the house regularly and stand in the yard waiting for ernie to come home.

the dishwasher, the washing maching, all spray and whirr and churn together. it’s no longer morning. henry paces in the kitchen waiting for cookies that he smushed into globs on the cookie sheet. the cat naps with one eye on the lookout for jude and his eager squeezes. jude sleeps himself in his room, dark and blanketed, the ruins of a morning tent blocking the path to the door.

Comments