This post was inspired by a photo of me, age 2, standing in front of our apartment on Amy avenue in Whiting Ind. The snowsuit is large and puffy, the waistline was as high as my great Bompa's right up under the non boob. It was new that year. By next year my wrists would be red and exposed and I'd have to wear my Dad's socks to fill the gap between boot and snow pant. An entirely different and colder, but no less awkward, presentation.
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| Note Bompa's waistline. |
Zoom ahead 55 years. There is snow on the ground. The dogs really need to go out. If they don't they will essentially say "fuck it" and pee on the floor. If this happens a Geo political situation that dwarfs anything the Russians have will escalate in the house hold. A skirt is quicker to throw on over pajamas than jeans, so I've gone with the flowsy elastic waisted thing I've had since before by kids were born. Elastic was never destined to live this long. Never Mind! I rip the hair tie (and a chunk of my scalp) from my head and fashion a "bikini knot", yeah let's go with that. No time for real boots so I shove my feet into the fugs, or fake uggs. These too have seen better days. The sole is unevenly worn at the insole, they make my feet look sad. Frowny feet.
The dogs are circling, in opposite directions. I am bound by their leashes, bound like a frowzy toppling maypole. I unwind the dogs and as I stand up the glasses that have been perched on my head fall backward and onto the floor. The bigger dog immediately steps on them, and when I tell her to stop she does (good girl) but then grinds the lenses a little into the floor as she shifts nervously waiting for instructions. Or trying not to pee. The glasses don't matter now, nothing matters now but avoiding world house war three. As we scuffle down the dark back stairs my skirt begins to slip ever so slowly and my untied hair is covering my eyes. I am more animal than human now......but we open the door and there is it, snow. Shining and glittering in the universal language of magic. I probably have the same goofy smile on my face as I did 55 years ago
© 2010-2016 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard
