Mother and Dad are up with the light. As in most marriages, one walks
slightly ahead, and with their two sets of eyes they enter the outside
world, drive to the mall, and find racks of clothing on sale. Dad
admires a pair of lightweight outdoor shoes. Mother puts them back,
saying that he can have them when itís warmer. She buys me a bathrobe
the color of moss. Vigilant, a couple patrols its territory.
In the afternoon, Dad comes downstairs and says, "Katherine, there are
no clothes in my closet." Mother goes up to the bedroom, and, sure
enough, only two or three things dangle on hangers. She searches high
and low and finally finds his clothes in the eaves. In an unremembered
moment, he had opened the Alice in Wonderland door and draped them in
there. What was going through his head? He loves his clothes so much,
he returns to them many times each day. Perhaps he thought they were in
danger, and, like a mother cat, moved them to a safer spot.
|Copyright © 2005 by Nancy Lagomarsino. From Light From An Eclipse. Reprinted with permission of White Pine Press.|