The exercise:
Write about: the suitcase.
Just over a week after the fact, Kat and I went out for dinner tonight to celebrate our third wedding anniversary. We left Max with Kat's parents and had a lovely time at Mica, though our son was never too far from our thoughts.
Especially with the five or six other babies at the restaurant.
Our little man is still doing well, now that Kat has cut both dairy and gluten out of her diet. It may just be a coincidence, but we're not really feeling like testing it quite yet. At some point we'll want to know for sure; for now we're just happy to have our happy, energetic baby back.
Mine:
All alone it spins
Around and around
On the carousel
Lost and not yet found
Will someone claim it
Or does a man wait
Patiently for it
In another state?
5 comments:
I think I may have noted congratulations already, but congratulations again! I hope you spared some thoughts for the food :) Although, if poor Kat's being deprived of gluten I imagine she did! Let's hope this is one of those transient childhood things that comes and then goes again :)
Heh, your poem made me laugh at the end today!
The suitcase
The clown got out of the suitcase and stretched. The suitcase, a small brown hairy thing that barely seemed large enough to have housed a clown in the first place, wobbled. The first clown frowned, exaggerating the facial expressions, and moved aside. A second, taller clown extricated himself from the suitcase, and also stretched.
Then he moved aside and a third clown clambered from the case. Then a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth.
Miss Melchitt, Immigration Officer First Class (Order of General Patterson; Bronze Star) sighed and picked up a handgun. She pointed it at the case.
"Is this an immigration or an invasion?"
So young and so naive that she didn't know what a fight means. Her mom used to pack things in a suitcase whenever they shout at each other. Once she cried to have a little suitcase of her own and didn't know how bad it hurts her mother.
She packed her toys and all one night when she heard him throw things. She has her own suitcase now.
One afternoon when she was home early from school she saw her mother was packing things. She ran to her room and did the same but her mother wasn't gonna take her. She just waved goodbye and disappeared before she was out of her room dragging her little suitcase. She cried all night and she didnt unpack her things in a hope that her mother would come back for her.
Now she is afraid of travelling as she is afraid of packing things. She is old enough now.
He loves her. They spend most of the time together and wanted to move in together. He makes her happy. While packing she threw all the photos of her mother into that little suitcase and threw it in the attic of his house. She wanted to move on.
As it happens, I've lived the past four consecutive weekends out of a suitcase. Not all at once, though: for two of those weekends I was home in between, but the other two were straight through.
Weekend One was up in the Adirondack mountains. Lots of people I know have been there, but I had never been there myself. But, at fairly short notice, some friends of ours asked my family if we wanted to join them. So we somehow managed to wedge our stuff and a whole mess of food into our Mini Cooper, and we set off on a trip that was as close to camping as we're ever going to get. The place had water and electricity, but internet and certainly cellular service were very much out of the question. And, apart from the black flies, it was really quite lovely. I actually can't remember the last time I was somewhere so quiet.
The second weekend was at my piano teacher's house for a three day recording class at a nearby recording studio; I stayed with her to cut down on driving. It was a crazy three days---twelve hours felt like twenty four, and twenty four hours felt like thirty six---but very much worth it: four people in the class, all of us from very different musical places, but we were all very much into the whole thing.
Weekend the Third the family packed up the Cooper again, this time bound for Stratford, Ontario. They host a theater (theatre?) festival every summer, mostly with a focus on Shakespeare, but they've since dipped into other works as well. My brother and I saw Fiddler on the Roof, then as a family we saw The Merchant of Venice and Tommy. All were excellent: my brother admitted to not hating Fiddler (a very sizable victory), Merchant was fantastic, and Tommy was... interesting.
If nothing else, it was very loud. It had that going for it.
And Stratford was incredibly lovely. We very much enjoyed the fact that it was Canada outside.
Then last Wednesday my dad and I got up around 4 to leave Stratford at around 4:30 to get me to the airport before 10. Weekend Four found me out in Anaheim, California for VidCon. I could go on for quite some time about its awesomeness, but let me put it like this: VidCon was basically all of the best parts of the Internet squished into 72 hours and a convention center. Sunday provided some respite from the crazy-awesomeness, I met up with some family I haven't seen in some time in LA and we went through the Museum of Jurassic Technology. And all that was incredibly cool.
So, yeah. I've been kinda busy. And it's been fantastic.
A 43-year-old businesswoman was sitting in an airport bar, drinking heavily. Another woman of the same age looking more of the domestic life sat down next to her. Neither spoke while they finished their drinks. The first woman turned to the second woman and said, “So what did you pack in your suitcase?”
“Ummmm. The usual. 4 self absorbed kids, 1 disabled teenager, a disinterested husband, 1 college tuition, 14 booster clubs, and 1 less ovary. You?”
“Right, you always over pack, but not to be out done… 3 ex-husbands, 7 ex-stepchildren, 1 very irritating case of hot flashes, 1 firing from my job for sexual harassment… yes, that’s new, and 1 ex abusive alcoholic stepfather still clinging to that goddamn life support.”
At the same moment the two women picked up their drinks, clinked them together, and said, “Here’s to the airline losing our baggage!”
Greg - yes, we're all hoping it's something that will pass with time. But for now we're just grateful there are plenty of alternatives available.
Haha, that's a fun scene to picture in my head. Though I do wonder what happens next...
Abhi - that's a very sad tale, though I do like the way it concluded. Very well done with this one.
g2 - my goodness, you have been busy. It all sounds quite enjoyable though, so that's good :)
Also: I really hope you own that sweater.
Mo - ah yes, why don't the airlines ever lose *that* kind of baggage? Hardly anyone would complain about it...
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