Unexpected Paper
It wasn’t even 5:30 and Puck was already awake. It’s only ever the days he’s allowed to sleep in that he never does. And naturally the days he needs to get cracking by 6:30 – Zzzzzzz…
Anyway, the morning was already splashing in rain when we finally got up at a more acceptable hour. Sort of mild out. Unusual for December, but we weren’t complaining.
El Oso walked out into that dripping world for one more day of work before the true Christmas holidays.
In the late afternoon, the mail arrived. A stack of Christmas cards included a special envelope for Puck from my old orchestra stand partner – those long-ago days playing violin together in the music-school/former-Jewish-synagogue: Laurel Peach.
Puck read the check before he read the card, “Twenty-five?! TWENTY-FIVE?! TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS?!”
She always was a generous friend.
Immediately: Legos. Lego-this, Lego-that. I advised him to think about it, research, consider. But his head was going full-speed ahead, one hundred miles an hour.
“YAY! YAY! YAY! YAY! YAY!”
I began grating cheese for dinner.
Puck read the check again, “Mom, what are those two zeros on the end?”
“That’s just part of the twenty-five dollars.”
“Oh.” – little laugh – “I thought it was twenty-five million dollars.”
The kid thinks big.
It was almost time for dinner. Our day had passed quickly with loads of laundry, dishes, the usual cooking/baking, a few errands in crowded parking lots, “Adventures in Odyssey”, stacks of books, all-new Lego creations, a little Minecraft/Terraria, a little Christmas music, and of course a few “I Love Lucy” episodes – Puck’s request. Sort of the description of Christmas vacation for this little house.
I guess quinoa and sweet potato don’t really mix with that list, but that’s what we had for our five o’clock meal, with a heaping bowl of frozen blueberries for dessert, Puck hoping for seconds.
We couldn’t forget Crackers though. Puck dumped the usual scoop of dry cat food into her unfinished ceramic bowl, crafted by Rose many moons ago at the Community College.
“Aw,” Puck said to himself. “The sweet smell of cat food!”
Sometimes I get to thinking that maybe it’s not my nose that’s broken.