I finally learned how to turn on the gas fireplace. It turns out all you have to do it flip a switch, and even I can manage that. I was afraid there was some trick involving an ignition and a clicking noise. Aren't there some gas fireplaces that have those? I distinctly remember shivering in T.'s parents' back porch, fighting with the gas fireplace on so we would not turn into popsicles when we got out of the hot tub in the winter.
But this one turns on instantly, in a whoosh of orange flame, and I have a crocheted blanket over my legs and there is a blue jay in the bird feeder outside the window. The sky is cloudy. I can't tell if it has rained or will rain or no such thing - this is Gone West, and here rain falls slow and gentle, almost more a crystallized fog than actual raindrops. In the next yard, a man is working under the hood of his Volvo.
I am thinking about a nap, even though I've done nothing today but wake up and eat breakfast.
...
Last night, we went rollerskating with the junior high kids. I tried to remember how to skate, and then how to explain the motion to a 13-year old who had never before skated. "Step, a little, and push out," I said. Her legs went flying in all directions, and I could only soften her fall, not hold her up. I am not that strong nor that steady on skates. I tried to tell her to lean forward, like a speed skater. You don't see them flailing backwards like all of us.
It was fun, though, to skate in the big loop. Rollerskating is the same as ever. The same young teenagers circled one another, like they did when I was thirteen. The same little kids clung to the edges and their parents. The same awkward grownups infringed on the fun and/or the misery.
Except now, the grownups are us. Me.
But this one turns on instantly, in a whoosh of orange flame, and I have a crocheted blanket over my legs and there is a blue jay in the bird feeder outside the window. The sky is cloudy. I can't tell if it has rained or will rain or no such thing - this is Gone West, and here rain falls slow and gentle, almost more a crystallized fog than actual raindrops. In the next yard, a man is working under the hood of his Volvo.
I am thinking about a nap, even though I've done nothing today but wake up and eat breakfast.
...
Last night, we went rollerskating with the junior high kids. I tried to remember how to skate, and then how to explain the motion to a 13-year old who had never before skated. "Step, a little, and push out," I said. Her legs went flying in all directions, and I could only soften her fall, not hold her up. I am not that strong nor that steady on skates. I tried to tell her to lean forward, like a speed skater. You don't see them flailing backwards like all of us.
It was fun, though, to skate in the big loop. Rollerskating is the same as ever. The same young teenagers circled one another, like they did when I was thirteen. The same little kids clung to the edges and their parents. The same awkward grownups infringed on the fun and/or the misery.
Except now, the grownups are us. Me.
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