Out for the Day
Wednesday, January 4, 2011
OLeif was still recovering from what was apparently a severe head cold and sinus trouble. Puck came back to his office, where he had decided to work from home after a visit to the store for more tissues, to visit him. OLeif hugged him.
“Dad,” he said, all worried. “You touched my head.”
“It’s ok, buddy.”
“But, Dad. Don’t you remember? You have The Sick.”
As school commenced, Puck had questions as usual…
“Mama… who gave me all this school to do?”
“The Big Man.”
“Who’s that? God?”
Collette attempted explanation…
“No. You see, The Big Man is what runs the country we live in. And God says, ‘Obey The Big Man unless he tells you to do something wrong.’ Is doing school wrong?”
Puck shook his head solemnly.
“So we do school.”
This response seemed satisfactory enough for the tike.
“Let’s make Daddy a surprise lunch,” Puck whispered excitedly to Collette in the mid-morning.
This was easily doable. Grilled pork steak and cheddar sandwich.
As the afternoon progressed, Puck had further questions…
“Mama? Who puts all that trash on the road?”
“Some people just don’t want to find trash cans. And sometimes it happens on accident.”
“Hmmm… Maybe we should send all the people letters who put their trash in the drain.”
“We could. But that would be thousands of letters. Probably millions.”
Puck closed his eyes and mumbled some things. Then he opened his eyes with a big Puck-grin on his face…
“I prayed to God that he would make hundreds of mailboxes for people so we can send them letters to ask them to stop throwing trash on the road and in the drains.”
The afternoon continued around Puck’s Quiet Hour, where he organized items and rehearsed scenarios and stories to himself and unearthed dinosaurs of loot within drawers and walls and… Sometimes Collette had to persuasively convince her son that he was not Magellan. While Collette blazed through six other projects of her own before resuming further studies with her son. Sometimes the schedule, though confined to the carnival-colored walls of the cracker box, was still tiring. The mail brought more motorcycle gear for OLeif to protect his face from cold wind, and thermasilk gloves. Puck immediately salvaged the box.
And as the night rolled in, sinking sun and temperatures in the high 40’s… minor surgery was performed on Bouncing Tiger. OLeif made a quick library run; the fresh air seemed to help his ailing structure. And the humidifier was filled for his journey through sleep before he set himself up for a few rounds of Tetris.
Sometimes the days were good, and mentally exhausting, at once.