Introductions (locked to Psyche)
It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Well, if you considered that the neighborhood consisted of a temple and it's vast grounds. The sky was cloudless and a vivid storybook blue, bright sunlight dazzling the water of the garden's pond.
Mister Smith sat on a blanket beneath his wife's favorite tree, his back againt the sun-warmed trunk. On the blanket beside him, his 8 month old son lay quietly on his side, his chubby fists worrying a colorful set of plastic rings while trying to cram them into his mouth. (Fortunately, they were entirely too big for him to manage that feat, so there was no fear of his accidentally swallowing them.) Angus' youngest sister (younger by a minute or two, in fact) was entertaining herself in an entirely different way. She was trying to crawl under the hem of her father's tunic, as if expecting he might be hiding something incredibly entertaining under there. Mister Smith was afraid she might be under the misconception that he was hiding lunch.
"You'll have to see your mother about that," he said with a smile, picking her up from the blanket and kissing her nose. She giggled and wriggled, her little wings flapping.
It was an idyllic setting, one he wished he could share with his wife and eldest daughter, but Aille would be away for most of the day and Rose had classes until dinner time.
"Looks like it's just us," he said. Brigid tried to grab his nose while Angus simply continued to gum his teething rings.
Or maybe . . .
"How would you like to meet someone special?" he asked. "Because I know she'd like to meet you." He blew a raspberry on Brigid's tummy that made her squeel with baby glee. "Is that a yes? It's a yes, isn't it?" he laughed.
And, closing his eyes for just a moment, he thought very hard of Psyche.
Mister Smith sat on a blanket beneath his wife's favorite tree, his back againt the sun-warmed trunk. On the blanket beside him, his 8 month old son lay quietly on his side, his chubby fists worrying a colorful set of plastic rings while trying to cram them into his mouth. (Fortunately, they were entirely too big for him to manage that feat, so there was no fear of his accidentally swallowing them.) Angus' youngest sister (younger by a minute or two, in fact) was entertaining herself in an entirely different way. She was trying to crawl under the hem of her father's tunic, as if expecting he might be hiding something incredibly entertaining under there. Mister Smith was afraid she might be under the misconception that he was hiding lunch.
"You'll have to see your mother about that," he said with a smile, picking her up from the blanket and kissing her nose. She giggled and wriggled, her little wings flapping.
It was an idyllic setting, one he wished he could share with his wife and eldest daughter, but Aille would be away for most of the day and Rose had classes until dinner time.
"Looks like it's just us," he said. Brigid tried to grab his nose while Angus simply continued to gum his teething rings.
Or maybe . . .
"How would you like to meet someone special?" he asked. "Because I know she'd like to meet you." He blew a raspberry on Brigid's tummy that made her squeel with baby glee. "Is that a yes? It's a yes, isn't it?" he laughed.
And, closing his eyes for just a moment, he thought very hard of Psyche.