December 30
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Puck woke that morning to find that Collette had put his old Nascar tin lunchbox in the box of donations.
“Mama!” he whispered to her, holding up the lunchbox. “This can’t go to the other babies. Because they will ‘waaaa!’ for their lunch. It has to stay with big boys.”
And he thump-thump-thumped off to his bedroom, returning not long later to announce that he had removed the green bandage from his finger.
At breakfast…
“Do you like warm milk, Mama? Or cold?”
“I like it better cold.”
“But warm milk makes your tummy feel better.”
He had been on a stomachache trip recently. Only the previous afternoon he had asked…
“When someone has a stomachache does that mean a baby is coming?”
And then he said his breakfast prayer…
“Dear Jesus, dank you for saving us, and dank you for my food, and, and dank you for hea… healing my finger. Right dere.”
And he pointed to the correct finger, just in case.
OLeif snoozed for awhile longer, having not fallen asleep until after one o’clock. At some point in the evening’s activities, he had purchased a much-needed quilted comforter for the bed and two pillows, in a sort of chocolate color, at least by Collette’s half-awake eyes in the middle of the night, Finally, a non-lumpy pillow. He had also left a fat peanut butter Snickers bar on her nightstand. Good old chap.
“I find it funny that you and Chet Danger went shopping together,” Collette said to him.
“No, what’s funny,” he replied, “is that this is the second time.”
Meanwhile, the rain seemed to have melted off the last of the snow, and the skies were still weeping gray that morning.
And when Rose had attended the Symphony the night before… there had been one seat left beside her. It was a near sold-out performance. And who should arrive to take the seat, but Bing English. The only two true Charlie Chaplin fans that Collette had ever met. They had even accidentally parked side by side in the parking lot. Great Charlie Chaplin fan minds thought alike, apparently.
The painting had dried for the first of its black and yellow layers. Collette set it on the counter and realized after a few moments that she was tapping her fingers against her chin in no particular rhythm, trying to visualize the next layer of paint. Then she looked over to Puck at breakfast. His fingers were also on his chin, watching her carefully.
“I was thinking about it,” he explained.
The morning was spent in adding more items to the growing pile of donation boxes. This was done by cleaning out the kitchen cabinets in entirety, including the spice shelves stocked with glass jars packed with expired things. Other items were shucked as well: tea bags, rice, lentils, soup beans, etc., things that had never been finished, and some of them never quite started.
“OLeif,” Collette said, “you should probably toss out that P-I-G-G-Y bank.”
The pink ceramic pig had broken clean in two, and was the means of Puck having cut his finger.
“What?” Puck asked when he heard this suggestion. “What? What is it? That P-G-G…”
During Puck’s snack…
“You’re gonna take a break soon to go to the ocean, Mama?” he asked.
“Yes, and I’m going to miss you so much. I want to bring you back something too while I’m there.”
“Like a Tardis?”
Meanwhile, the weather was fantastic. Beautiful enough to open all of the windows to the spring winds and gray skies and wet leaves. And the predicted highs for Saturday had been adjusted to an incroyable 68 degrees Fahrenheit.
As such, they could not help themselves but to take a short drive to the park and walk a mile or so together in the wild winds.
It was like walking around Walden’s Pond, perhaps. Or some other place in the ‘wilds’ — New England, or out in the English countryside. Silence but for the wind, only. Red-gold prairie grass, wellies and a sweater, OLeif followed by his pipe smoke, and Puck tearing away on his bike with WWII battle helmet, giggling as he careened down hills. There were only two subsequent crashes. No injuries.
“That’s not fair,” he declared, when he had spilled over for the second time.
Violet skies, skuttling silver. Ghostly forests, and fields of white and yellow. That lonely tornado siren by it. And the ridge of dark red hill rising up. Hills that always reminded Collette of Indians from old days. Folds of flattened reeds, and ice over the pond in the woods. Brush that was almost blue, and dark purple-black brush in the little prairies. The gale of wind in the chill. Rippling across the red-gold grasses, like the muscles of some ancient beast sleeping on the hill…
When Puck saw the playground, he tore toward it, leaving behind his bike, where he found two children: a brother and his little sister. They played together for a short time in the wind. Then it was time to go.
“Bye!” Puck called to the little girl.
“You didn’t say ‘bye’ to me!” the boy called back.
“Bye!” he waved.
“Bye!” he waved back.
In the car, lunch was discussed…
“I want a sandwich too,” said Puck thoughtfully. “And some ‘franch’ fries. They’re my best.”
Lunch was a tri-split between cheddar omelets, turkey sandwiches, and chicken fajitas. With the requested small order of French fries.
“Close your eyes, Puck,” Collette told him, as she arranged the fries on his plate.
He closed them tightly shut.
“There. Open them.”
His jaw dropped to his collar, and his eyes grew wide with a smile.
Into the afternoon…
At two-thirty, OLeif was off to join Atticus McCrae in a sort of jam session, as Atticus had been learning the violin for some time now…
While he was out, Collette and Puck put together another painting of sapphire blue and black, waiting for an orange streak after the first layer had dried.
And come evening…
Collette drove out to Ivy’s to join Carrie-Bri, Rose, Linnea-Irish, and Kitts and her new buckyball, for a quiet movie night with the kitties. Jeeves & Wooster, Ho Hos, Cheez-Its, and… thank goodness Ivy had even stocked the caffeine free Coca-Cola, so Collette could wet her whistle. And two Skinny Cows for Linnea.
Max subsequently hid under Ivy’s bed after he had stayed long enough to reacquaint himself with Collette. And Joy stared at her food dish for two hours until her feeding time at eight o’clock. Nothing much had changed in those years.
Come nine o’clock, the small party had disbanded.
Francis arrived at the door: Carrie’s and Linnea’s ride.
“We’re going to have some pretty crazy weather tomorrow,” he said. “Highs in the 60’s, then a quick drop to the 30’s. Could be tornadic activity…”
Then Collette returned home to OLeif, where they put on Tiny Fey and Steve Carell, which lasted until 11:40, and then a crash into bed.
Sometime in the late, late night, Collette heard a tremendous crash of thunder. And the rain poured.