Name all of the things in that picture. Find the hidden items, the hidden meanings, identify the metapahors, similes, sea creatures and crazy eyes. Count the number of Queens of Mexico. Please note the roses and jasmine. I grew them. Also the round shape of the vase they are in, which pleases me, roundness, whether in vases, turtle shells, or fatbaby knees.
Do you see the woman behind the curtain? Ignore her. She is not there now.
I have x-number of days by myself. Mr. Moon and his sister-in-law have taken off for the island with enough food for a month, enough fishing poles for a troop of fisherpeople, enough boat-length for ten more, and probably not enough bug repellent because there just isn't that much in the world.
They originally planned to go out today, return on Sunday but the weather doesn't bode well for such a long stay. One must be able to get back from the island which means that one has to keep a wary eye out for coming storms.
I had originally thought to go with them but I am staying here instead. I love my sister-in-law. She is a gentle, amazing soul who is stronger than just about anyone I know. I love to hear the laughter, easy, between sister and brother.
Plus, who would watch the baby chickens? Yesterday I discovered that no, they are not smart enough to get in out of the rain. They were outside when it began to rain and instead of huddling up together under the piece of tin which would provide complete dryness, they choose to stay in a wet corner and we had to bring them in and let them dry under the light and they stretched their wings out and turned on their sides to luxuriate in the warmth. We did this before we went out to eat our dinner and it was a wonderful dinner. I told the chefs when we were leaving how much we enjoyed it. How tremendous it was. They ducked their heads and said, "Oh, sometimes we get it right."
I also hugged my old friend, the dishwasher. He is deaf and has the most beautiful smile in the world.
There was no dancing. Except for that. That hug. It was a tiny, still dance and if there was music, it was inside of our heads.
And so now they've gone. We went to the grocery store this morning for them to buy their food and then went by Lily and Jason's to see the boys.
I got to change Gibson's clothes. I can't recall ever delighting in a naked baby quite the way I delight in Gibson. I wish he never had to wear anything. He is that perfect.
As are they all.
Gone. They're gone. Pulled out with that giant boat, gone and here I am and the house is clean enough but there's laundry to finish up and the garden. Oh my, the garden. I could spend every moment of the next few days in there and it wouldn't be enough.
Tomorrow I think that Owen is coming over to play for awhile. I miss him. He mostly ignores me if anyone else is around (meaning his grandfather) but if it's just the two of us, he will deign to play with me. When we were leaving, Lily said, "Owen, give everyone kisses good-bye."
He said, "I gave hug Mer-Mer already."
He had. He did.
It is quiet and peaceful and for a day or two I will have my own schedule to tend to whatever I feel like tending at whatever time I want to.
But I will. I am a tender.
And I feel very tender, as a matter of fact.
There is a cardinal in the bird bath. There is a blue-tailed skink on the back steps. There is so much green, fresh-washed and shining. The doors and windows are open and there is not much of a delineation between inside and out.
Roses and jasmine are in both places.
For no one's pleasure but my own. I feel sort of guilty.
But not really.