would give it a try. The anticipation...no, the horror ...of beginning a career after staying home and being invisible for so long. The only comfort I had is that it would be in the company of a friend.
Charlotte, or Charlie, if you’re one of her oldest friends and remember her boyish figure that didn’t need a bra until she was sixteen, loved her job as principal. Such a delight to be around, she always made everyone more comfortable. Our friendship remained so strong long-distance, it would be a real joy to see her calming face every day. She has such a way of making me feel whole, and sane, even when I shouldn’t.
On this horrid day of getting up at sunrise, I decided to treasure my shower sans Violet and pulled out all the stops. Normally, I shower while she plays at my feet, then dry my hair while she takes a bath. But today was special, and I took advantage of my stolen hours of the morning . . . though I’d rather be sleeping.
I turned up the radio on the counter, lit a candle, and climbed in.
Typically, Vy would be at my ankles, washing my feet with her giraffe puff and asking me when I was going to shave my legs. I breathed deeply the vanilla scent that quickly filled the small room. This was like a mini vacation.
Twenty blissful minutes later, I blew out the candle and went to assemble myself. I fixed my hair in the most business-like manner I could manage and skipped downstairs for some coffee. Music, coffee, private shower; doesn’t get much better than that.
Ahhh, I was wrong. I swung around the kitchen door quietly and wrapped my hands around John’s face. Without “guessing who,” he spun around and picked me up off the floor in a good morning hug. I could get used to this early thing.
Only minutes later , he was off for work, and I was waving goodbye to him on the front porch with a warm mug cupped in my hand. I rarely experienced a morning conversation with my husband because he was always off and running so dang early. Apparently I was in for a treat every single day.
I breathed in the morning air ( hmmmm, smells completely different than nine-thirty air) and pulled my robe up closer to my chin. This was a ridiculous thing to be doing on an Oklahoma summer morning, but it was freezing in the house and I was preparing myself to be chilled when I went back in.
I took one more swig of coffee before going inside and stopped mid-sip. The curtains across the street were . . . swishing . . . how odd. Back and forth. Back and forth.
They weren’t the heavy curtains I had noticed during my visit; they were the shears behind them. Elizabeth must have pulled the larger ones back to let in the morning light. Come to think of it, I’d never seen the bulky draperies pulled back before. Of course I hadn’t been up this early since we moved here; maybe they were always open in the mornings.
Swish .
Strange. It was like a fan was blowing from one side. A quick, short spurt of air. Then once more from the other side.
I decided to pop a squat in the wicker chair on the porch and do something I had never felt the urge to do before: I was going to people watch. Or . . . eh . . . curtain watch.
I settled down into the thick cushion, next to a large potted hibiscus on the side table. It was the only live thing I’d managed not to kill in three years and it actually survived the move. A feat I deemed astonishing. It was so large now, I pretended that it concealed me. I pulled my feet up in the chair and sipped my coffee behind my knees. I was now the nosy neighbor.
Five, maybe ten minutes passed as I watched Elizabeth’s window carefully. It was not a steady, timed rustle of the fabric. Just a few whooshes here and there, then nothing. Then again. Then nothing.
I was practically chugging my coffee to keep myself looking busy, and not like I was engulfed in a drama forming deep in my mind. If there were some funny business going
Charlotte, or Charlie, if you’re one of her oldest friends and remember her boyish figure that didn’t need a bra until she was sixteen, loved her job as principal. Such a delight to be around, she always made everyone more comfortable. Our friendship remained so strong long-distance, it would be a real joy to see her calming face every day. She has such a way of making me feel whole, and sane, even when I shouldn’t.
On this horrid day of getting up at sunrise, I decided to treasure my shower sans Violet and pulled out all the stops. Normally, I shower while she plays at my feet, then dry my hair while she takes a bath. But today was special, and I took advantage of my stolen hours of the morning . . . though I’d rather be sleeping.
I turned up the radio on the counter, lit a candle, and climbed in.
Typically, Vy would be at my ankles, washing my feet with her giraffe puff and asking me when I was going to shave my legs. I breathed deeply the vanilla scent that quickly filled the small room. This was like a mini vacation.
Twenty blissful minutes later, I blew out the candle and went to assemble myself. I fixed my hair in the most business-like manner I could manage and skipped downstairs for some coffee. Music, coffee, private shower; doesn’t get much better than that.
Ahhh, I was wrong. I swung around the kitchen door quietly and wrapped my hands around John’s face. Without “guessing who,” he spun around and picked me up off the floor in a good morning hug. I could get used to this early thing.
Only minutes later , he was off for work, and I was waving goodbye to him on the front porch with a warm mug cupped in my hand. I rarely experienced a morning conversation with my husband because he was always off and running so dang early. Apparently I was in for a treat every single day.
I breathed in the morning air ( hmmmm, smells completely different than nine-thirty air) and pulled my robe up closer to my chin. This was a ridiculous thing to be doing on an Oklahoma summer morning, but it was freezing in the house and I was preparing myself to be chilled when I went back in.
I took one more swig of coffee before going inside and stopped mid-sip. The curtains across the street were . . . swishing . . . how odd. Back and forth. Back and forth.
They weren’t the heavy curtains I had noticed during my visit; they were the shears behind them. Elizabeth must have pulled the larger ones back to let in the morning light. Come to think of it, I’d never seen the bulky draperies pulled back before. Of course I hadn’t been up this early since we moved here; maybe they were always open in the mornings.
Swish .
Strange. It was like a fan was blowing from one side. A quick, short spurt of air. Then once more from the other side.
I decided to pop a squat in the wicker chair on the porch and do something I had never felt the urge to do before: I was going to people watch. Or . . . eh . . . curtain watch.
I settled down into the thick cushion, next to a large potted hibiscus on the side table. It was the only live thing I’d managed not to kill in three years and it actually survived the move. A feat I deemed astonishing. It was so large now, I pretended that it concealed me. I pulled my feet up in the chair and sipped my coffee behind my knees. I was now the nosy neighbor.
Five, maybe ten minutes passed as I watched Elizabeth’s window carefully. It was not a steady, timed rustle of the fabric. Just a few whooshes here and there, then nothing. Then again. Then nothing.
I was practically chugging my coffee to keep myself looking busy, and not like I was engulfed in a drama forming deep in my mind. If there were some funny business going
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