the weary go home
March 23, 2009 | Filed Under familial | 3 Comments
more lovely days coming one after the other. we go to the park, we come back, the children take baths, some protesting, some swimming long until wrinkled and red. i am bitten by a spider, some kind of transluscent insect whose teeth leave me itchy and red speckled. do not sit in the grass on the hill by the soccer field, trust me, i’m sure he has family still living in those parts.
finally people are well. the baby continues to push her teeth up through her gums. i feel like i’m catching up on things, though the house is a mess. the boys play nicely today. i love the days without fighting. i feel happiest when there is no conflict, no stupid squabbles, no ridiculous insults shouted at each other. they are brothers and friends today. this is happiness.
ernie’s grandmother is dying. she does not eat or drink. today ernie has gone to see her and maybe to say goodbye. mimi has the most glorious wreath of white hair on her head. she used to wear it in a beehive of sorts, a comb neatly tucked into the back. i’m glad i met her when her when she wore her hair that way. i love the way she would laugh at things like she wasn’t supposed to find them funny. a secret little laugh tucked into her dainty mouth. she doesn’t remember many things now, she watches and waits. she’s waiting for Jesus.
painted kites
March 19, 2009 | Filed Under ordinary | 1 Comment
it’s the middle of the night, this computer makes a groaning sound in waves, up and down with the fan inside spinning. we spent the day happily, the boys being good to each other, a long visit to the park without planning to go there, other boys to match henry’s energy, lola shrieking, walking in circles, jude hiding in the tunnel slide for a long time.
oh, blue sky, light jackets, the breath of wind a secret in my hair, on the back of my neck. spring is for girls, i’m sure of this one thing tonight as i slip across the cold floor and close the window. this morning when i woke up i was cold from the sheets, the blankets, covered in air the color of phlox, of dogwoods that consider blooming. birds near the fence bickered over breakfast, sun in their feathers, the day a swoop and a soar from nightfall.
i like the late nights, the cat at the door, today tucking itself into bed, tomorrow perched with an eye to the east, the sunrise coming early, hope in long white threads stretched out before me.
youngster
March 17, 2009 | Filed Under familial | 2 Comments
ernie’s birthday today, sunny for the first time in days. i woke up hearing the boys singing happy birthday to him in high voices. they also were wearing green shirts so as not to be pinched. the kitchen was a mess all day, before the time to bake cake, after, continuing tonight. i’ve still not eaten dinner. it’s nearly eleven. some days are like this. it’s too bad ernie worked all day. i would like to write that we went to the mountains, flung a blanket far and smooth for a picnic, searched for four leaf clovers, found sticks that made good swords, came home tired and rosy cheeked, took baths, fell asleep when it was just growing dark. another year.
happy birthday, dearest. you’re the best man i know and i’m so glad you’re alive.
daffodil that bends
March 15, 2009 | Filed Under ordinary, royal buffet | 5 Comments
i’m updating the shop with new things for spring. hurrah, hooray! i’ve got at least fifteen more listings, more cards, tags, two new mobiles, three, four new garlands. too many at once. you wouldn’t think so to look at the simple listings, but it’s a lot of work to take pics, choose pics, edit pics, write descriptions, decide on prices, list materials, etc., etc., to post just one item. not to mention making the things, which is the best part, of course, though i do enjoy taking the pictures, too. i should probably spread it out and not do so many things in one day. and i’m sure i could be more efficient. efficiency is not really a strong point. i know that ernie cringes as he watches me on the computer, maybe the same way i cringe when i watch my mom on the computer. going around, coming around. i do like looking at that row of new animal puppets hanging out a long green line, the gift of the work.
ernie has a birthday this week. he pestered jude until he was told about some presents he is getting. jude was doing a good job and not taking bribes until ernie said he’d tell him a secret if jude told him the birthday secret. terrible! i do know better than to let the boys in on secrets but i thought they could keep at least one. ernie says that the best part of his birthday is to try and get the boys to tell the secrets and i know that feeling.
late afternoon, early evening, the light in the bedroom is gray and too bright. ernie took the shades down because they were old and yellowed, one of them ripped to the top, split to the center. lola liked to pull the shade out over the bed like a tent in the mornings as she stood on the pillows and looked out the window. i’m glad for the empty windows behind the curtains, but the gray light is still bright in the early evenings.
it’s late and i’m trying not to eat that chocolate cake that erin left here the other night. i can feel the cocoa tickling my throat just thinking about it.
leaves swept together
March 10, 2009 | Filed Under ordinary | 3 Comments
march, and, a few enthusiastic trees in full white bloom, early, like brides who buy their dresses long before they should. the windows in the house that open, are open. the breeze blows through and papers flutter and flap away. lola is sleeping, a long morning in the sand, lunch, the irksome change of time helping her sleep deep and long under a blue blanket in the boys’ bed. there’s a bird yelling at someone just outside the door. the cat flicks his tail and listens from the laundry room. i’m annoyed with the cat for digging in the trash at night, for scratching the baby, for pawing at the screen too early in the morning.
i sat on a blanket and watched the boys work together to dig a deep hole. they are strong and they work hard to do what they love. lola plunks bark, sticks, the silver glitter of white sand into a bucket and tells me about it. i watch and the wind could almost blow me away, the sun golden on my arms and shoulders.
all night long when we sleep the pillows are cold from the air. in the morning lola hugs my face hard and climbs from the bed to find brothers in the next room. i could sleep the day away on a cold white pillow in the morning air. we make coffee and jude dresses to play outside.
ice on the stairs
March 4, 2009 | Filed Under ordinary | 2 Comments
there are days like these, like the day that was yesterday, the day that is today. days that, even though scattered with too soon forgotten goodness are mostly hard to do. it snowed this week, real snow, the kind that snowmen are made of. we made one and a third. he wore a flower in his lapel since there were flowers growing in the yard. this made us happy, flushed and happy. we went for indian food, this was a good thing, the spinach saag, please, i love it, i love and could eat you every day forever. we played hide and seek until it was too silly and people were hiding under small baskets, across the couch, and this was the kind of playing that brings us together with a loud cloud of laugh. we play twister in a variety of groups, the boys playing without planning, making dots as hard to reach as possible. this, also good. but the rest of the day, these days of two, most of the rest, are hard to do, to do and to not go completely insane. maybe because we’re still a bit sick, everyone is tired, the weather cold and lifeless, the snow forgiving the yard its trespasses, the melting making them all the more horrible. there are days like these, i’m just glad they’re few, far between.
