The morning, the one I was up for hours before anyone else, was cool and orange. But it was orange so I knew. But little boys don’t understand what orange mornings lead to. So it was back into the overalls and the green shirt again because they were comfortable the day before and Mama hadn’t exiled them to the laundry yet.
Just as the orange was fading and I was finding directions (probably the most often search done here), dreams of corn porridge were entering my head. So then I was at the stove whisking and stirring and adding and listening to the news. Chile holding people accountable, New Orleans still in recovery.
Then there was sending “Mister-I-go-to-work- in-the-morning” to wake up the babe, who hadn’t put on the overalls yet. There was a family breakfast with honey past around the table and lunches packed.
We tumbled fast into cars going opposite directions with different goals. We sped through town on the interstate and up into the hill along side the army base until we past it’s end. Up to the farm where the apples and berries were. We had hopes of berries for jam, but the reality of cost made apples sensible. So we picked apples, lots of apples.
We had a tractor ride, picked apples watched the sunflowers in the wind, picnicked with friends, had another tractor ride, ate some apples, got really hot.
Alder rode home in the car in his underwear, long sleeves and overalls discarded, windows open. He slept hard as I raced over the hills and through town. I was good, I kept to the highways no wandering, it was too hot in the car and I knew the shade of the pines would feel cool and good on little and big bodies alike.
Out of the car for apple cutting, playing train, and of course the sand pit. Mama sitting and reading as delivery boy brings me books and sandwiches and tigers. Nothing is better than a ride in a red wagon after you’ve been delivering goodness for an hour.
We did good and important things then, like watering the garden and organizing a tiny bit of the garage.
Phone calls from across the country with tales of the ocean made me sad, a family trip we weren’t on, a moment of mourning and then I made dinner.