Untitled [Mother and Dad are up]
Mother and Dad are up with the light. As in most marriages, one walks slightly ahead, and with their two sets of eyes they enter the outside world, drive to the mall, and find racks of clothing on sale. Dad admires a pair of lightweight outdoor shoes. Mother puts them back, saying that he can have them when it’s warmer. She buys me a bathrobe the color of moss. Vigilant, a couple patrols its territory. In the afternoon, Dad comes downstairs and says, "Katherine, there are no clothes in my closet." Mother goes up to the bedroom, and, sure enough, only two or three things dangle on hangers. She searches high and low and finally finds his clothes in the eaves. In an unremembered moment, he had opened the Alice in Wonderland door and draped them in there. What was going through his head? He loves his clothes so much, he returns to them many times each day. Perhaps he thought they were in danger, and, like a mother cat, moved them to a safer spot.
Copyright © 2005 by Nancy Lagomarsino. From Light From An Eclipse. Reprinted with permission of White Pine Press.