Wings spread,
wobbling on air,
they start, dart, stop, drop, then
smack wall. Unicyclists,
just hatched.
Ivan and viola, 2011.
I check my watch — 5:08 p.m. — a respectable time to open the bottle and pour a glass of spring that tastes of mangoes and grass, is filled with the flutter of Mayflies and of bruised twilight. The bridge of my foot aches from having a wooden stool tossed on it, the outrage manifested during the daily tantrum that proceeds the nap. My 3-year-old screamed for 15 minutes straight. He threw himself on the ground, arched his back like a comma and thrashed back and forth like the grubs I unearthed as we planted flowers earlier in the day. Look, I commanded, and pointed to a bug no bigger than my eyelash, and watched as it jerked about, then rolled itself into a moldy spiral bun. Exhausted, maybe. My own grub, worn out by his exertions, drew a ragged breath and curled into my arms, heavy and spent. I question whether the tantrum is worth the 45-minute nap. I know it is worth the glass of wine.
I know it is worth the glass of wine.
And possibly another…
For Unicyclists,/ just hatched, , many thanks.
I love this: “Unicyclists,/just hatched”
Ugh, I remember those days…we all gave up on naps very early (well before 3…you’re doing well!)
Anno, you are welcome. The next time I watch my 9-year-olds at unicycling club, I must bring my camera. Thirty-five children tottering about on single wheels is quite a sight.
I remember those days with Eli. It’s painful to remember. We used to drive out to the burro rescue towards Pyramid every day. I just needed a little peace and quiet. That drive gave it to me for 45 minutes. The money I spent on gas was worth it but maybe I just needed to open up a bottle of wine!?
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