White Arms
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
“Mama, what does ‘pullette’ mean?”
Puck was already at it with the morning questions as Collette pulled her eyelids open.
“I don’t know, buddy.”
It didn’t really matter though, because Puck already had answer ready for himself…
“It means ‘polite’ in a different language.”
So… all that rain that was supposed to come in… that wasn’t happening.
But what was happening, was a high of 84 coming their way in the heat of the day.
Unacceptable.
Shorts and tees.
At lunch, Puck’s little ear was still red from the sun yesterday, or so he said.
“It just gets like that sometimes,” he said with a small shrug. “From the sun.”
This was followed by a surprisingly lengthy, inquisitive, and spirited conversation about the usefulness of nasal… contents.
“But, Mama,” Puck blazed onto the next topic of conversation, “how did clouds get made?”
During Quiet Hour, Collette sat in her room to watch the pink and white tulip trees across the street ruffle in the wind and sunshine. And Puck, as always, drilled some anecdotes down the hallway in his thundering voice…
“Mama. I have a joke for you. A man loves bacon for a long time. And then he had an old blanket. And he slept on this blanket every night. Naked.”
“Why naked?”
“Because he didn’t have money. This was back then. You know, that was back then when there was no money. Just Adam and Eve. That was before everything was… important stuff was born. Like houses… and other things like that.”
“Mama! Wanna see me dive into the front yard?”
– Collette was checking the baseball game when Puck came running back through the front door, excited. –
“Come watch!”
He stood on the front stoop, hands pressed together in the position of an Olympic diver. Then off he flew, into the grass. Feet down first, followed by knees, then flat on his stomach, grinning…
“You wanna try?”
The bubbles came out next.
“Mama? What if I could blow a bubble and put an ant in it? Would it be pretty tricky?”
Clouds scuttled; no rain. With the trailing ends of plane lines sketching the sky, some of the heavenly couches resembled swords stuck in pin cushions.
When OLeif returned for the day, he pulled out the step ladder to reach the attic to inspect for a possible leak. Collette tapped the ceiling above the sun yellow wall with the handle of the broom until OLeif discerned the location of the “drip, drip”. Puck was mildly concerned that OLeif’s foot might go through the ceiling.
“The floor might not be sensible enough for Daddy’s weight,” he had said to Collette, worriedly.
After dinner, Collette was feeling the need for a little peace and quiet. She retreated to her room while Puck got thinking. He requested several sheets of Collette’s special red paper and two envelopes to make her some “Good Mother’s Day” cards. When he marched back in – twice more – later, he produced the sets of “cards”, which he had dictated to OLeif…
“And Daddy’s my best agent,” he had explained. “Dad, you’re my best agent of all times. You’re so best, you’re my best.”
Card One – Labeled: Snicketts Collette, Get Well Soon
I love you, Mama, and get well soon.
Card Two – Labeled: To Collette, From Puck
You have a good house, Mama, and good doors and thank you for the blocks.
I wonder where they came from.
And you have good tables and books and everything you have is great,
just like God wanted it to be.
To Mama, Love, Gus
You have good wealth and I hope you don’t die soon and your glasses are beautiful.
And I love you so much that I hope you don’t die.
Love, Puck
Her sweet, comical son.
The sun dipped low, painting the clouds apricot, as OLeif turned out quieting music for Puck to sleep by, and studied on into the night…