Thursday, November 1, 2012

Strolling with Sally

Sally at five months

This juicy morsel and her mother, Sarah, were in town last weekend.  I sat in church with them and decided to take Sally outside into the bright gold that is October this year.  I carried her across the street and into the cemetery thinking we could visit Lucy's grave.  A romantic notion, I realize  quickly.  Sally is heavy and I have a weak lower back and am clumsy as a three-legged dog.  I am huffing and panting, the grass is uneven, my back pain is sharp and when we are halfway between the church and the gravesite, I realize I have put us in danger.  I could fall down and she would go with me. How stupid to take this on as if I were fifty.

I lean on headstones.

Finally, we reach Lucy's grave.  What was I expecting?  For Lucy to rise up and greet us?  For Sally to speak in tongues?  "Dumb," I say out loud.  I am worried about my own exhaustion.  Sally begins to cry.  "Yeah, I know," I say.

I head back holding tightly to my lively bundle, watching carefully for potholes.  Just before the street is a tiny embankment that now looks like the Himalayas.  Do not fall down are my instructions to myself.

Finally, I am seated on the stairs to the church.  Sally gurgles and grins, unaware of the stupidity of my venture.  I kiss her under the gold cup of her ear.

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