Magic Genie

Puck was thinking hard on the drive to Theodore’s and Gloria’s that morning. The wheels never stop spinning.

“If I had a magic lamp with a genie in it, I would wish for one billion gold bars and one billion diamonds and the biggest vault in the world and the biggest mansion in the world. And a pasta machine that makes a billion pasta a day and wouldn’t rot. Then I would be a king with a robe and a gold throne. Dad, you could take a break from your job for a bit. You would give your boss a diamond and you would get off twenty days.”

“So I couldn’t quit my job?” Oxbear wanted to clarify.

“No, Dad. No. Why would you quit your job?”

“I wouldn’t have to, I guess.”

“But I would get you a zoo and a lightsaber. I would also have super powers so that I could run really fast.” He paused to take in the enormity of the moment. “This genie would have to be tired out.”

It was still that warm/cool portion of the spring where it’s not uncomfortable either way yet. This was taken advantage of by most of us; I went back and forth between the game (a rare opportunity to take in play, high-def). Kicked a few Nerf balls around in the backyard. Several times Puck catapulted it over the neighbor’s back fence, requiring Oxbear to drag out a ladder from the shed to summit the flimsy white slabs.

When Theodore returned – Indiana Jones style – from teaching, there were boxes of pork steaks drenched in BBQ sauce while the game dwindled to a win in Cincinnati, and a good one.

Later in the afternoon, following a viewing of “Up” while Gloria worked on the deck furniture, a discovery was made in the backyard. Baby bunnies. We went down to investigate. An indistinguishable squirming bundle stashed in a hole covered in piles of soft gray bunny fur.

Before bed, Oxbear and Puck watched home footage of tsunamis in the South Pacific.

“He has so often assisted me that it is as if He is creating me all over again, every moment.” – Martin Luther