Posts Tagged ‘Hello’


I wasn’t going to post today, but there was that smell.  You know how houses, buildings, localities have a certain discernable, characteristic, and distinguishing scent?  Sometimes it’s a nice smell, sometimes not.  Library or bookstore, hospital, Italian restaurant, your mother-in-law’s house…  Yep.  That’s where I went, and that’s what I smelled (roses and pinecones?) and even though it was crazy I allowed myself the expectation that my baseball-capped son would appear around the corner and that I would enter the living room to meet the gaze of my white-haired father-in-law looking up from his bible or his dictionary from his navy blue wingback.  I knew it wouldn’t be so, but I let myself go with it.  Since I was alone in the house while I made a pot of coffee (the others were outside planting), I thought why not go whole hog and talk too, so I told them all the things you might expect… missing them and loving them and not fully appreciating the nature of them—not then, not now.  And then I said to my son “and I’d like to hear from you today” because it was true and not because I believe it is possible, necessary, or likely.   Hey, it was just me the crazy woman, the coffee pot and the ceramic lemons, so what the heck.

Mid-way through the afternoon I got the urge to petal up and retreat on home so I could walk up my sidewalk and get that hug-your-house feeling.    Little Max had had an “off” day, snuffling and burrowing in his little doggie cage during the whole planting affair.  As he’d accumulated quite the greenish crust on either side of his little black nose, I washed all three dogs (the other two being exhausted, filthy swamp mates). I learned that wet, Max is pink as a shrimp and the size of a potato.  A trembling pink potato with wispy white hair who yipes and looks aghast at you, the syringe squirting comb-wielding lunatic who has nothing better to do than wave around a noisy and hot blow dryer while pulling dog hair.

When we were done we went outside to do our business and that was when I saw it.  The calf across the field cavorting and leaping like a pup amongst all the other staid and steady cattle, round between them he ran, circling and leaning into the others.  Breath of play, heart of spring… in his final dash spun to halt directly in front of me.  He twitched his ears and winked.   I kid you not.

Now I could be wrong about the wink but not the twitch, and not the spin and not the stance straight across the road from me, and I don’t believe in anything but some people do, so I smiled and waved.    I’ll take my “hear from you” where I can get it and maybe we’re all a little bit crazy and some days – maybe Mother’s Day – we are a little more crazy than not.


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