He’s sitting on the ottoman with a mouth full of meat. He’s chewing and talking. I hear, “Four, five, seven”. I turn to see what he’s doing. He’s punching numbers on the the big ole Texas Instruments TI-5020. He’s wearing only his undies—the ones with Lightening McQueen on the back. I just watch. He’s so stinkin’ cute, this little boy of mine. He looks up, and I smile. Hamburger spills out of his mouth. He sets down the “toy” and gets up only to walk away.
I start typing.
The big girl walks in front of me with her violin in hand. She starts playing—loudly. She’s only wearing underwear and a tee-shirt too. She moves past me and stops with her back to me. She’s got the one-cheek-sneak going. The ‘lin starts up again. The tiny dining room space is much too small for such a big sound, but she keeps playing—oblivious to the volume of noise she’s producing. It’s her latest piece and she’s absorbed in the beauty of the notes, new to her, coming alive with the touch of her fingertips.
I keep typing.
I see her Dad. He’s flying around the kitchen. Trying to clean up the after-dinner mess. (Good luck!) The mess extends beyond just the here and now. It’s cumulative mess-pile-up. The house has been a drop-zone for the past few days. But, he’s trying. The water is on. The sponge is flying. The dishwasher opens and closes. He does what he can and then steps out into my space.
I type on.
I can hear the movie playing in the background of the other room. The other child, also probably only her underwear, is glued to the one-eyed babysitter. It’s one of those movies she’s seen over and over. She doesn’t care. It’s TV. And, TV is always a treat for the monkeys. It has a way of transforming my naturally inquisitive, and interesting, children turn into “square heads”. At least they are calm, quiet square heads.
I take a sip of my malted beverage, and keep tapping on the keyboard.
It’s almost time for me to go to bed. “Laken straat” as my host Mom would say. Can’t wait. It’s been a fun day working at a local flower shop (gearing up for Valentine’s Day), but I’m ready for a good night’s rest.
Time to stop typing.
Tomorrow’s a new day. A day of rest. A day to celebrate the Lord. A day for more Love Letters. So…until then…slaap goed, y’ all.
Type atcha tomorrow.
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{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
Cute. Such descriptive words. I am glad that you didn’t say hubby was in his undies doing dishes!
I loved this, and I also echo Faye’s comment.
. Thanks for sharing.
Rest assured ladies—he was not in his undies doing dishes. Wait. Let me clarify. He was fully clothed.