Winter's Coming
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
The morning was perfectly eerie. The neon lit up the gray at the donut shop and the laundromat across the street. A pocket in the gray-blue had split over in the east – out melted the sun – molten white gold, ray-less and cold.
Back at the house during the day, while Rose read a psychology assignment, Collette busied herself reading all 35 pages of John Calvin’s commentary on the third chapter of Micah – (that boy could write).
Rose, however, kept falling asleep during her GRE studies, seeing as she had just moved her comfy saucer chair back up into her room which was already warm and cozy, particularly with Linnea’s flannel rainbow tie-dyed blanket wrapped around her.
Meanwhile, Carrie submitted her application for graduation and opted not to attend the official ceremonies in Washington D.C., December 31, as she would be in Egypt during the time.
In the early afternoon, Mom and Collette ran a few errands, which included a flu shot for Collette, which her doctor had highly recommended, despite the fact that she had not had the flu (or anything resembling it) for fourteen years. Precaution. Linnea had wanted to accompany them, begging to get a flu shot herself – strange child. But Mom had her stay behind with Carrie while Joe was at work and Carrie and Frances were at choir.
And Pumpkin slept the day away snuggled under the Christmas tree, occasionally fighting off a dangling ornament or cord.
Evening brought slighter cooler temperatures, although the whole day had been mostly gray and unusually warm with cool winds and rustling oak leaves. Mom made plans to leave earlier the next morning than she had originally intended, to hopefully arrive in Kansas City with Grandma and Carrie before any inclement weather might hit.
Once the kids had returned from choir, Rose poured herself a glass of milk before getting back to the studies.
“Curly and I got in a fight again,” she said smugly.
“You always get into fights,” Joe chuckled.
“What about?” Collette asked.
“I don’t know…” Rose trailed off.
Apparently it wasn’t important enough to remember.
Come evening, Dad came home and began eating all the peanut butter pretzels from Trader Joe’s while talking over career ideas with Carrie regarding spy work and such.
“So what would happen if I accidentally let something slip?” Carrie asked, “What if I passed on a secret or something?”
“Well, they’d probably have to kill you.”
“Yeah right. And what would you say if someone asked you if you were in the CIA?”
Dad just kind of got his smile lines and didn’t answer.
“Oh, come on, Dad, I’m not saying you’re a spy or anything, but I know you know the secret-ness,” Carrie giggled.
Dad just grinned and walked back into the kitchen to scout out more goodies.
And Mom prepared to leave with Carrie and Frances to a home school meeting that night for a discussion led by a military man.