The Rare Silence

Sunday, February 26, 2012

“Birds!”
Run, run, run, run, run.
“Birds! There are birds flying around everywhere!”
Puck’s eyes were wide as he ran to the next congregant to share the news once again.
Two “cow birds”, as OLeif labeled them, had escaped into the rafters. They fluttered back and forth for about twenty minutes as members began arriving, watching their heads just in case. Fortunately the two black fowl decided to nest in the holes in the ceiling and avoided distracting the congregation during the service.
During Sunday School, Collette talked with Mom, and Daisy-Jean and Evangeline for a little awhile, as Mom rocked Baby Eight (who parents were teaching the Revelation class), who had a bad cold, to sleep.
“Aw. Look at her,” Daisy-Jean nodded to the slumbering boy. “She’s just amazing, isn’t she?”
Mom seemed to be the premiere baby sitter of the church.

Carrie was finishing lunch preparations. In an hour she had grilled stacks of cinnamon roll pancakes and baked an egg casserole, all from scratch, just in time to feed the masses, including Linnea’s friend from church, Anne.
“That’s a nice shirt,” Puck told Anne in the middle of the meal.
Anne was theme-dressed for the youth fundraiser that night in a blouse littered with horses, cats, owls, and deer.
“Thanks, Puck.”
“What’s hanging from your necklace?”
“Oh, that’s Harry Potter.”
Puck sat up from his seat…
“I can’t really see it too good.”
“Puck, it’s rude to stare at the table, honey,” Carrie instructed him.
“I’m not staring at the table,” he replied, as they laughed.
“Thought he’d get a bird’s eye view,” Dad couldn’t say it without laughing.
Groans.
“Look at that funny man over there,” Joe announced.
Dad laughed.
Collette was stuck on the end of the same bench with OLeif, Joe, and Francis. There was some slug-shoving going on. Francis stood up in a hurry. Joe fell off the bench with a heavy thud.
“Do you have any brothers, Anne?” Carrie asked.
“I have a sister.”
“You’re lucky.”

The afternoon then segmented like an orange.
Dad employed himself in taking over “Puck and Grandma Time” as “Puck and Grandpa Time”. This included feeding the chickens at the Plum’s house.
Mom, Francis, Linnea, and Anne left for church to prepare the youth fundraiser dinner and talent show. Super Smokers was to be served.
OLeif completed further studies.
Joe, after switching on some Nascar in the basement, joined Rose on a wilderness hike in Castlewood before returning Rose to her apartment.
Everything was suddenly so quiet.
“Can actually hear ourselves breathe,” Carrie noted.
When Dad and Puck returned, Dad asked Puck who was the boss of the chicken house…
“The rooster in the boss,” said Puck. “He thought he was the boss of all the people in this world but… God is.”
Collette and Puck threw around the tennis ball on the driveway for awhile until Lucia showed up with a special matte nail polish for Carrie, and they drove off to cook up some brief intrigue for the late afternoon.
As Dad read from the history of the School of the Ozarks, the first volume, 1906-1960’s, and OLeif repaired Collette’s hard drive, Collette and Puck sat on the porch swing while Collette schooled Puck on his poor behavior in Sunday School.
“What does ‘poor’ mean?” he asked.
“It means not very good; bad.”
“I thought it means when you have nuffin’.”
As Collette’s laptop continued to update, OLeif departed for some brief run-around errands as Dad switched on national news.

When OLeif returned from picking up several items left at church, he was chuckling.
“I get there and the parking lot’s full. There’s one spot left, and I see Dr. and Mrs. Honeycutt coming, so I signal them to take the spot. I walked in with them after I parked further out. And Dr. Honeycutt told me, ‘You just saved yourself a letter grade, brother’.”
“What?” Dad asked.
“He’s one of my professors this semester,” OLeif explained.
Dad started chuckling pretty good.
“Oh, Dad,” Carrie protested. “You laugh at the dorkiest things.”
They started preparing to leave for the evening, while Joe practiced a deadly curveball and sinker in the backyard with Puck. They then transferred to the front yard so the boys could wave them off, side by side on the porch swing.
“Joe, stop throwing that ball against the house,” Dad called to him.
“It’s just a foam ball.”
“You’re a foam ball.”
“Say that again, boy!”
“You’re just a foam ball.”
Joe reeled back and socked the front door with the ball, laughing.