05 May 2013

Early summer, there is no other word for it. I tried a few fresh raspberries with the grey porridge, hell, I even ate a pear and half a banana. But went back to nibbling dry rusk and toast for the rest of the day. Too much nausea plus vertigo to do anything else. Doctor's appointment tomorrow.
The cat is pretending to be young and agile, rolling under the pear tree and walking away covered in white petals. 
We did none of the things we had planned to do this weekend. Stuff we had marked on the kitchen calendar weeks and months ago, the crafts fair, the anti-nazi demo, the garden center, the fireworks by the river. Too busy nursing our aches and pains, R complaining the Greek olives gave him indigestion. 
I booked another night for October on the Italian lake, online. I can see myself doing this regularly. There is a 24hr cancellation policy free of charges, 24hrs prior to arrival that is. I am very tempted to book all sorts of fancy places just for the heck of it. Pretend travel, until some booking engine cancels our one and only credit card for wasting their time.
My 3 yr. old grand niece is starting kindergarden tomorrow. (My baby brother is a granddad.) It is a forest adventure creche, three hours to start with, on weekday mornings. All outdoors, come rain or shine, waterproof pants, wellie boots, a sturdy handcart, exploring.
As kids we used to play in a small forest, building dens with sticks and moss, elaborate tree houses. Dangers lurking everywhere. My mother made us matching brown corduroy overalls with bib pockets, perfect for collecting beechnuts. For a while I carried with me a flattened lizard I had peeled off the road. My father eventually showed me how to dry it properly on the garage roof. It disappeared that night.
I can still see my little brother in his short lederhosen, crying and clinging onto a branch far too high for him and my mother arriving on my father's black bicyle, in a white pencil skirt, high heels, climbing up to rescue her little prince. As she brushed the bark from her skirt and lit a cigarette, she hissed at me and my big sister from behind the smoke, don't even dream of coming home tonight.
And so we were in the middle of preparing our bed of leaves, discussing whether we should collect acorns for dinner when my father drove up and opened the car door without a word. He grinned all the way home. I saw it in the rear view mirror.

1 comment:

Ms. Moon said...

Beautiful images.
Feel better soon.