Renaissance Day

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

There was little in the news that morning of catastrophic significance. President Bush was calling for more speakers of the Arabic language, as there was a significant shortage in the CIA, particularly in the terrorist division. She would pass the information onto Carrie – even more incentive to keep going. And then, Lance Armstrong was to compete for his seventh straight win in the Tour de France. Aside from this, most seemed calm on the Western front for the moment.

It would be a cooler day. The morning seemed to be passing quickly. There was time to trim OLeif’s hair a bit around the ears, as it was beginning to grow too long once again. The scraps would be saved for the birds’ nests. And then he left several minutes early before work to bring back a Pepsi, which Collette had been craving for some reason.

It seemed to be a day of schedule-making as well, which was a bit Collette thrived on. And to her, for some wonderful reason – perhaps the sun was hanging just right – it was an old Renaissance day, buried in the castle with an archer’s window on the wall before her writing desk. There would be a candle there as she sat scratching thoughtfully with the quill, dressed in her long satin robes of a sunburst golden orange. But spring was coming even in the north country, and so her sleeves were opened to the rosy sun and there was laughter and dancing and song and feasting for the night. And all the family were happy and the friends of old days were to stay for many days and nights.