A Day at Home
Monday, May 21, 2007
Monday was a day at home after a fast and busy weekend. Denae, Mom, Kitts, and Carrie went out to lunch before Carrie left for work. And most of the kids in the high school group went out to Six Flags for the day. Then it was off to a swing band concert for them that evening. The constant social activities of those kids…
Collette could almost smell early summer through the windows. The particular green pallor of the trees was no longer spring.
Puck was found cooing at the bookshelves that morning. What was so terrible fascinating about a row of books, Collette couldn’t quite tell. But whatever it was, Puck was held captive in wonder. He continued his staring session for a solid half hour around a frenzy of hiccups during the afternoon. There were times in which he actually appeared to be scared of the bookshelf, his blue eyes grew so very wide as he kicked his baby legs and flailed his baby arms. But mostly he was in ecstatics over his new-found friends, the books. It was like he couldn’t pull his gaze away, they were so incredibly captivating.
Graduation was coming in five days. With forty-five graduates, their personal biographies had been shaved down to a smaller word count than the graduating class of 2006. Collette assumed in advance that OLeif would require two water bottles and maybe a Dr. Pepper to keep him narrating the entire diploma presentation without dry mouth.
Mom and Joe had already finished the display board for his table, which included a bike tire affixed with photographs from over the years.
Before heading out around the neighborhood, Collette put fish in the oven with butter and salt and pepper. Then she put down the little wide-eyed Puck for a long first nap of the evening. This was after his bath, which he did not enjoy quite as much that evening; he was not feeling quite as toasty. His lip quivered in the coolness of the room. But once OLeif had wrapped him tightly in a fluffy beach towel, he regained the light in his little eyes and was soon contentedly snuggled down in his crib.
Her walk that evening sent her past the smells of frying eggs and sausages, glowing petunias, wet cement on a freshly hosed-down driveway, honeysuckle from the words, chalked hopscotch in the street, a young mom playing ball with her daughter in the front lawn…
“You’re a silly mom,” the little curly hair girl laughed.
“And you’re a silly girl,” the mom smiled at her.
As Collette rounded a corner onto the main street, the sun shown a pale summer orange in the west. She was quickly swept back to Hungary for an instant, only an instant. That was how she was usually reminded of Hungary, at random unpredictable moments, brought about by unrelated circumstances.
Squirrels quibbled with black birds in the tall old trees. Pink paint balls lay splattered in random places from her walk the previous week. The moon hung at a crescent. A teenage girl sat under a tree in her front yard spray-painting some small object. Pines, golden lilies, splashing fountains, lanterns, climbing ivy… people in the neighborhood, no matter how ramshackled, liked to decorate their lawns.
It was a good evening for Greece and Morocco, or Turkey. Maybe even India…