Tuesday, February 04, 2014

Melt. my. heart.

I am in mid-dream ... 

I lost my necklace and then I heard the sound of it from the table across the room (the sound of a necklace, weird.  Hey, it's a dream!)  I stand up and call who made that sound a girl stands and holds up the necklace for everyone to see and I exclaim that's my necklace it was given to me by my mother and i walk over wondering as i cross the room whether or not she will give it back to me or whether or not she will challenge my claim to ownership I tell her where I think I lost it and that's where she found it so she is just starting to say something about giving it back when ...

a muffled, knock, knock, knock.  A little hand on my covers, knocking. I sleep with my head completely covered by the blankets here because it's cold in my bedroom so she knocks on the comforter when she comes to wake me.  I am instantly out of the necklace dream and looking into the smiling face of a tousle-headed little girl who crawls under the edge of the heavy covers that I hold up for her.  We snuggle in the warmth under flannel sheets and four blankets and a comforter and make up stories about the faithful watchdogs, Thebidoux and his brother, Marmaduke, and a new character, their sister dog named Maybelline.  And so our day begins.


The good old dog, Sadie, whines to go out, so I let her out the side door and note the temperature.  Just how cold is it going to be today?  Not bad.  Chilly, but not frigid, and the sun is shining.  That's good.  Some of the snow remaining in ditches and piles on the side of the road will melt today before more falls tonight.


The first order of the day, after the snuggles and stories and letting the dog out, is to check the woodstove.  It usually needs tending by this time, so I shovel out the ashes from last night's fire, keeping as many of the good coals inside as I can, and then add a few sticks of kindling and then logs that are sitting on the bricks just by the stove.  That's the last of the logs inside, so we go to the porch/mudroom and I bring in a few more logs while Clara scoops the dog food out of the bin because by this time, Sadie wants to come back in and is hungry.

I make coffee, soften butter on top of the woodstove, pull out last night's cider cornbread, and fry an egg for Clara.  We are on our way to what continues to be a really lovely day together.  At the end of the day, at the dinner table, as we discuss when I might head back down south, Clara says, "I wish you could live here forever, Gramma."

Oh, little girl.  Melt. my. heart.


kkp said...

i love this so very much. all of it.

thanks for writing- not just chronicling, but writing.

Amber Benton said...

I am transported there...

Kathie said...

Don't they just!

(and now I want cornbread with softened butter)