. . . When I Closed My Eyes
The
mid-afternoon sun fell through the upstairs window onto the comfy chair.
Finding the invitation irresistible, I sat down, leaned back, and closed my
eyes. Blanketed in sunshine, I fell into a false sleep through which I could
hear the pitter-patter of production all around.
When
the little girl with golden hair shrieked and fell from the top of the garage, landing with a thump,
I considered opening my eyes. Instead, I scrunched them tighter. The clanging of the firetruck assured me help was coming. The girl would pull
through fine as ever as she always did, perhaps with a new scratch or two.
The
clatter of cars lining up was the next sound to invade my not-quite-nap. The orange-haired girl with freckles would be manning the red open-wheel racer. The boy with the orange ball
cap and permanent smirk would drive the yellow prototype. Owners who never left
their assets would drive those remaining cars. I didn’t have to look to know.
The engines rumbled. The race was on. I turned my face into the sun.
Then,
there was only silence until the floor creaked in front of my feet. Two hands
planted themselves on my knees, and I opened my eyes to see my favorite
three-year-old face searing his intensity.
“Grandma,
come play with me now.”
I came.
* * *
Photo by Courtney Chestnut on Unsplash

Comments
Post a Comment