Tuesday, September 30, 2008

When I woke this morning, the first thing I did was pull my knees back under the cocoon of our Christmas colored quilt, because the cold morning air was making them numb. Then I grinned a very sleepy, stupid grin as I realized that the air was cold. Fall's almost here. Good riddance, summer.

My little girls were sleeping in "daddy's spot", all nestled in together like little spoons in a drawer full of dishtowels. They're so different in personality and traits, but when they sleep they're comically similar. Curled up on their sides, one arm tucked under their body across their chests, the other cupped under their chins in a thinker's pose. Mirth's eyes tightly buttoned shut, Lark's half open so that her enormous eyes peek from under a long, tangled bramble of lashes. The elder's mouth pooched into a rosebud, the younger with a whimsical half smile on her face. Both of them with the rowdy hair of unkept pixies.

Cold air in the morning always makes me half expect to wake up in my grandmother's chilly upstairs guest room, with the oily fog of bacon and eggs creeping up the stairs to mingle in my nose with the smell of fabric softener and cedar. It makes me smile. I imagine I can hear the laid back, balsa wood-soft voice of my Papa drawling away downstairs, and I picture him making jokes as worn out as a lazy old hound as he scrambles eggs and bakes biscuits. I hear my mom laugh, and my dad clear his throat before he takes his first sip of coffe, wild bear hear poking out everywhere.

I imagine my Mimi padding into the kitchen in her embroidered robe and slippers, her face still shiny and soft with cold cream, asking me, "Did you see what Santy-Clause brought? Are you hungry? Did it get too cold up their for y'all last night?"

I always lie, no, we were just warm enough, thank you, ma'am. The truth is, it WAS cold, but I don't tell her, because she'd fiddle with the heat and roast us like turkeys. It can always stay chilly, as far as I'm concerned. I like snuggling under the quilts, feeling the cold air on my eyelids when I blink.

I wouldn't have it any other way.


  1. I was just reading your challah bread post & wanted to comment, but it seems to have disappeared :)

  2. Memories flood in over this post. I wonder what your girls will write about visits to my house one day. :)

  3. When are those wonderful words of yours going to be published either in a book or song. It is an incedible gifting!!!