Chapter Forty-Five
Hadn’t I just been talking to Joe Wednesday morning about teeth dreams? The kinds where all your teeth are loose and they start knocking around together in nightmarish collapses. And so I wake up Thursday morning with vivid memories of popping two of my upper incisors in and out of my gums. With apparently abnormally long stems, I might add… I made eggs-in-a-nest V-Day style for The Bear and Puck. Crunchy buttery heart cut-outs carved straight from the middle.
Puck giggled at the heart hole…
“Good work!”
While I composed these culinary heartthrobs, The Bear schooled Puck in a quick lesson of how to properly hold my old stringless honey-red violin probably not worth the paper I didn’t write this document on. He sort of got it.
The Bear also picked up a box of Danish to bring to the guys at work this morning. As a joke. On the way, he dropped us at the Silverspoon’s for a quiet, beautiful, still sun-drenched morning. I was feeling the itch for another storm. Puck thundered around on his strider bike until he met with the inspiration of taking Sebastian on a walk. The poor old grandpa dog was more excited for this opportunity than I thought. Blue leash on black dog, we walked him three medians’ worth until he trotted back for a lap of cold water on the porch and a crash-into-nap on the black dog bed in the living room. Gloria had left sparkly foam hearts, Valentines fridge magnet kits, bright mini markers, a Monsters Inc. PEZ, and even a full Reeses bar for myself on the counter. This occupied some time. I nuked the leftover Saturday Home Run pizza for lunch while we waited out the story. Sometimes I forget that it’s sort of nice to have a microwave at our disposal. Found an artist I liked over my own plate of cheese, bread, and red mortar – Elliott Hundley. A sort of Medieval splash of collage and colors and nonsense. Once lunch had concluded, Puck stormed down the deck in his Strider in the wind and rattling dead leaves yellowing full-out…
“MONS-TER PEZ!! MONS-TER PEZ!! MONS-TER PEZ!!”
He’ll sing and croon and conquer and victory chant to himself for hours in the sun and the wind and the mud and the rain. I finished up a third candidating pastor sermon, just for some further brain food, and joined him out there before I forgot to play… Francis called…
“Are you home?”
“At the Silverspoon’s. What’s up?”
“Are you serious? I’m out at your place. I’m dropping off the chocolate and the rose that Dad, Joe, and I got for you.”
That definitely deserved an uncharacteristic Collette “aw”… We spent another afternoon swing session in the mild pale light of a February that was too warm right before the cold comes again. Flying through the air makes Puck’s dimples even cuter. I have to say. I conjured some dinner while employing a second feature in the form of “Monsters Vs. Aliens”…
“My quesadilla fell on the floor, Mom. I can’t eat it.”
“Sure you can. Five second rule. Five minutes for boys.”
Or in this case, the Sebastian-already-ate-it rule. Theodore, Gloria, and The Bear drove up in that order. Gloria worked on steaks and salads, raw cheese, blueberries, etc., lamenting not having shrimp for the salad. We took in one more round on the swing as it got dark, right before the stars. Puck flew towards the branches, contemplating the sliver of white marble in the sky…
“It’s a toenail moon!”
Oh, yeah. He’s going to be a real romantic… I caught him lying flat on his back in the dark grass while we packed up the car for the brief ride home. Star gazing. Of course The Bear’s fancy celestial exploration mini planetarium on his iPhone, complete with nebulae-inspired ambiance soundtrack, could sort of rival sprawling on the cold lawn.
I thanked Dad and the boys for my treat sitting on the counter. The rose had flipped out of the coffee mug Francis had filled with water, but was still quite alive. Hundred dollar check from Webster U for that recording session The Bear pulled off that one Saturday, a Valentine for Puck from my old St. Louis Symphony Music School’s Young People’s Concert Orchestra – doesn’t that sound grand – stand partner, Laurel Peach, Dr. Laurel Peach. I flipped on a little Cary Grant while I got the pretzel bakes in the oven, Puck happy with Crackers and Sponge Bob eye cover, The Bear wrapping up some vocab before dinner and comedy. We do Valentine’s in the most elegant ways. And probably more enjoyable than a candlelight table at Red Lobster. Or in Joe’s case, Waffle House.
