August 14

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Recovering from the sudden demise of Assumpta Fitzgerald and the disappearance of Father Clifford… strange the pull of fiction on the spirit… Another one to add to Collette’s expanding list of books and scripts to rewrite…

Meanwhile, Puck was second breakfasting at the Silverspoon’s in his newest Comanche-Apache warrior do, sculpted with Carrie’s Australian beeswax.

“You didn’t ask the question this morning, Puck,” Theodore had said after Puck initially arrived and settled in with a rambunctious Sebastian.

Puck got a big grin on his face and he turned around to head toward the kitchen. “Do you have any bacon?”

So OLeif worked on fried egg sandwiches and more slices of bacon while Theodore buttered and jellied a biscuit and handed it to Puck.

“You know what’s so sad about this biscuit?” he asked. “It’s not homemade. Still one of the most traumatic moments of my life, was when your nana stopped making homemade biscuits every morning.”

For most of the morning, Puck rolled marbles down an extended white metal curtain rod. He giggled in sheer delight as they tumbled down the chute.

After Puck’s snooze, he chowed down on blueberries, banana, and cantaloupe.

The day was still hot. Puck scrubbed down the front porch with a sponge and a pot full of water until it was time to come in and scrub up for Sunday morning.

This was followed with more wrap-up-Puck-in-the-blanket-like-a-burrito games with Izzy, with Puck begging, ‘Again! Again Uncle Izzy!’

And Charlie was doing better that day. Day by day, waiting, and watching…