Ch. 169; Vol. 10
I reverted to tendencies in olden days – waking my siblings for school with obnoxious selections of music. Today it was the Bee Gees – “Stayin’ Alive”. I set my laptop in Puck’s room, still dark, him bundled up in the thick purple blanket, refusing to wake up. I pestered him a little, I admit. And around the time we got to…
“Life’s goin’ nowhere, somebody help me…”
Puck scrubbed two hands into his eyes and mumbled at me…
“You’re goin’ nowhere.”
Which got him laughing, because I started laughing.
A warm bubble of early summer settled over the great lands of suburbia that morning. More papers, more newsletters on re-entry red Astrobrights paper, and more coins. A lot more coins. Ninety-seven dollars worth, actually, which resulted in more piles of sticky metal circles covered in animal hair, presumably household pets. Another game token, a Canadian piece, some wheat pennies. And York peppermint patties for our efforts. Sweet dealings.
One of the dads picked up his daughter early for gymnastics class. As he signed himself out…
“You look familiar,” he told me.
“You do too, actually. I can’t think of where…”
“Vanderbilt?”
“Oh, right, right.”
Neighbors for three years. Our apartment had been right above theirs. I think he had worked in furniture design and sometimes they barbecued fish, maybe. His wife’s sister – her name was Vietnamese – would visit from Canada. Funny how things ring around.
Puck and I peeled rolls of glassy sap from the purple plum in the front lawn. With sticks. That’s all fun and good. Even more so when Puck mixes it with milk and molasses, seeds, and tissues…
Bouncing balloons. Puck was running back and forth, around and back, popping them up into the air, from Grandma Combs’ birthday. Mom joined in for a little while. Then up and down the stairs with a large exercise ball.
Linnea took a walk up to the school in her headphones. Carrie was tired from everything she had going that day. Francis jammed dozens of algebra problems in the basement before working his third official shift at the Rec-Plex.
We had to keep hunting down Snuggles, the mom and dad cardinals chirped angrily at him every time he escaped, on the prowl. He had been stalking squirrels earlier in the morning; never even close. The baby cardinals were involved in another series of flying lessons…
“They’re not going so well,” Carrie explained. “I keep having to rescue the little guy when he falls on the ground. Then he perched on my finger and wouldn’t leave. He started falling asleep. Looks just like a little puff.”
Fresh blueberries, peaches for Puck.
Happy Hollisters read by Mom.
Ice cream cake.
That was Linnea’s idea. The English family had donated one of the many leftovers from the wedding.
Carrie restocked hummingbird feed.
Dad, just back from work, saw Puck sneak a peppermint from the pantry, and grinned…
“You know, Puck, I was a little boy once, too. I knew how to sneak things and hide behind doors.”
Then he consulted with Aunt Corliss and Grandma Snicketts via phone regarding the next steps to take.
Mom was joining a friend at Faust Park – Fiesta concert series, Modern Mexican cuisine. Mom finds more happy things in life than most people, I think. Somehow her four daughters didn’t follow those tracks quite as easily…
Carrie walked Grandma Combs through a Netflix situation and mashed pretty delicious guacamole with quesadillas and salad. Puck washed the avocado seeds. Two plastic teaspoons. Improvised bowling…
“Come on, MOM!”
Days are full in their own ways.
When we got home, the A/C was out, the fridge, washer, dryer, Puck’s room, and the library. The Bear consulted a friend from work whose wife was an electrician.
Always something.
