It’s cool and damp for a June morning; fog drifts
up from the river, moving rapidly towards us.
The tall fir trees softly disapearing, and in mere
minutes we have become a small, vibrant
green, island, surrounded by a sea of gray.
Sudden movement in the loquat tree tells me
breakfast is being served. Limbs jerk, leaves rustle,
parting but an instant, time enough to reveal blue,
white fluttering within...two hungry Scrub Jays
devouring fruit, still wet from the morning dew.
Emmalie is going through her morning feeding ritual;
a bite of this, the putting on, and taking off of that,
a sip of coffee, and the pile of rejects grow. Caught up
again in her frenzied search for just that perfect match
of colors for her day adrift in a sea of office gray.
Dropping rejects where she stands...unintentionally
creating for me my morning exercise program
of bend, stretch, reach, until everything is back on
hanger, or in a drawer.
Her decision made, one final check in front of the
mirror, a glance at me... for some word of approval,
(just beautiful I say). She takes her lunch from my
hand while rushing out the door...pausing at the
gate to give me last minute instructions.
‘The don’t forgets’ is what I call them: don’t forget
Tipper’s ears, and don’t forget to dose the sparrows.
Don’t forget to water the yard...each one called back
over her shoulder as she move purposely out the gate
towards her car. And as she drives away I drift slowly back
into the house, lost in my own sea of fog, promising myself
‘I won’t forget’.