Deflation
Breakfast.
“Deeor Jesus, thank You for saving us and thank You for giving us such a beauuuuuutiful day amen… Oh, I almost ran out of air in my air lungs.”
Perfect October morning: heavy mist, sprawls of orange leaves, soaked soil, spiderwebs and grayness.
“Mom, would you do the honors? She is meowing like an angry vacuum that is sucking up everything in the house.”
It was the usual morning routine – Puck trying to cuddle Crackers in a blanket. And she was mad. She can get pretty cranky sometimes; but then again, I guess that’s the definition of a cat.
Trees: vegetable stalks of all colors, shapes, and textures: pine, persimmon, cedar, sugar maple. It wasn’t going to be the most brilliant autumn STL had ever seen, but it was looking ok. A lot of orange. More red would have been better.
Puck’s costume waited in the living room. Carrie began wrapping the monster baseball [built from deconstructed hangers and white plastic table cloths] with red stitching via the duct tape, penned “Rawlings” on the side with black Sharpie. She sort of operates ex nihilo. Back-up plan: white pants, Dad’s black socks [knee-highs on Puck], black running shoes, baseball shirt, Cards cap. But, honestly, who could remember Hallowe’en when such stakes were on the table? It sort of passed me by this year.
Linnea was growing up. Mom drove her to the community college to finish two more rounds of tests for entrance in the spring, dual enrollment.
A little Simon’s Cat. Hallowe’en music. All windows open. Warm and cool, rain and breeze, damp leaves and groves…
“Like the Climbatron,” Carrie noted.
Shelly Duvall’s “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”, pumpkin carving: Puck and Mom together, Hallowe’en themed pasta for dinner, baseball talk with Carrie.
How could I pay attention to the remains of a chili dinner and Hallowe’en party at Old Church when Game Six was going down in Boston? Fortunately, Bær agreed to join us so I wouldn’t be the negligent mother. I even mostly ignored the fat jack ‘o lantern bucket of chocolate swinging from Puck’s chubby paw.
As night arrived in spitting rain…
Puck shouted to me from his bunk bed….
“MOM? I VOTE THAT LUCK DOES NOT EXIST!”
Bær refilled the ink cartridge in the printer.
And I just sort of stared off into space.