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Inside Looking Out Between the time of my first awareness and the sudden move to the house in the small town where I lived most of my first 20 years, there was a sunny, quiet country house that I remember as clearly as though it were just a few years ago, instead of 4 decades. I can still see the sun crawling all over the small kitchen and my highchair. When I had a cold, I would have to stay in the warm house. I would run from door to door almost all day, looking out at the bugs and trees and grass. I remember the times when I would press my face against the back screen door, not minding the criss-crossed bridge of dust imprinting itself on my nose. Outside, my mother would be hanging clothes on the line in the sun, despite Japanese beetles, two stray horses from nobody-knew-where, and the miniature growling disturbances at her feet. Every step she took was a compromising shuffle, so as not to upset or tread on the puppies hanging onto her toes and heels. We had a cat, too, that liked to play with clothespins. While the puppies distracted my mother, Fluffy would spring onto the chair near the line and stretch her slim feline body up to reach the pin bag. Within seconds, the bag would come down, spilling clattering clothespins and howling cat all over the damp grass! Where the cat landed, she would go into an elaborate crouch, just waiting for those pins to attack. However, Mom would be there in an instant, shooing her away. Fluffy would streak off, all wide green eyes and whipping tail. After awhile, having at last hung all the clothes to dry, Mom would be free to do the thing she loved the most, her gardening. It was no fun to watch her sit and pull weeds, and no use pleading with her to let me come outside with my sniffly cough. I would stand at the door with tear-filled eyes and imagine the old tree and swing sighing with loneliness without me. Finally, weariness claiming me, I would curl up on my parents' big double bed. My Dad would awaken me later, carrying me to the dinner table where Mom would have our meal, and the world would be a good place once more. |