#61 - 64 100 Drabbles of Summer
61. Breakfast
"Mama, it's time to get up." Little hand, not so little any more a growing hand, shakes her sleeping shoulder. Delia does not want to get up, she does not want to open her eyes at the moment she can't they're swollen shut.
"I'm hungry, let's make breakfast." She can't eat if she does she'll just throw it up, everything tastes like garbage.
"Are you sick?"
"No, baby." She can't let him see her like this, lost, distraught aching so completely. He's old enough to know when she's sad, old enough to take her hugs and help her make breakfast.
62. Hermit Crab
"It's his house, it's shell is a house and it carries it around with it so he'll always have a place to call home." Hermit crabs are creepy, but Atlas loves creepy crawly things especially the ones that make mom scream.
"I have a house," he tells his father. "We have a house, me, you, mama, a very nice house."
"We should take it everywhere."
Lawrence thinks about this, "how would we do that?"
"Put it on a boat!"
"We'll put it on a boat then, and put him in the sand." The crab moves off for a little privacy.
63. Ice cream
Baby Atlas can't sleep in the soft warm of the early summer when the sun stays in the sky long and longer, lingering before it's death below the horizon. They take long car rides to get him to sleep, windows down, breeze blowing as they cruise along, the rumble of the engine lulling him to sleep.
Sometimes they stop at a tiny roadside stand that sells ice cream. Two kinds, chocolate and vanilla soft serve, cone or cup.
He scrunches his face at the first bite but as the weeks and months pass he understand the greatness of the treat.
64. Iced tea (Long Island style)
"I'm hooked on a feelin' I'm high on believin' that you're in love with meeeee. . ."
"Mama," there's a smile in his voice. "You've had one too many." She's not drank in a long time.
"I feel naughty! Drinking like this, we'll get caught." Her whisper isn't quite a whisper.
"You're allowed to drink," he allows. "You're allowed to feel naughty."
Straddling his hips, Lawrence leans back as she slides down on to his lap. "What if I want to feel naughtier?"
"I can help with that," his hand slip around her and hold her as she slips into his kiss.
"Mama, it's time to get up." Little hand, not so little any more a growing hand, shakes her sleeping shoulder. Delia does not want to get up, she does not want to open her eyes at the moment she can't they're swollen shut.
"I'm hungry, let's make breakfast." She can't eat if she does she'll just throw it up, everything tastes like garbage.
"Are you sick?"
"No, baby." She can't let him see her like this, lost, distraught aching so completely. He's old enough to know when she's sad, old enough to take her hugs and help her make breakfast.
62. Hermit Crab
"It's his house, it's shell is a house and it carries it around with it so he'll always have a place to call home." Hermit crabs are creepy, but Atlas loves creepy crawly things especially the ones that make mom scream.
"I have a house," he tells his father. "We have a house, me, you, mama, a very nice house."
"We should take it everywhere."
Lawrence thinks about this, "how would we do that?"
"Put it on a boat!"
"We'll put it on a boat then, and put him in the sand." The crab moves off for a little privacy.
63. Ice cream
Baby Atlas can't sleep in the soft warm of the early summer when the sun stays in the sky long and longer, lingering before it's death below the horizon. They take long car rides to get him to sleep, windows down, breeze blowing as they cruise along, the rumble of the engine lulling him to sleep.
Sometimes they stop at a tiny roadside stand that sells ice cream. Two kinds, chocolate and vanilla soft serve, cone or cup.
He scrunches his face at the first bite but as the weeks and months pass he understand the greatness of the treat.
64. Iced tea (Long Island style)
"I'm hooked on a feelin' I'm high on believin' that you're in love with meeeee. . ."
"Mama," there's a smile in his voice. "You've had one too many." She's not drank in a long time.
"I feel naughty! Drinking like this, we'll get caught." Her whisper isn't quite a whisper.
"You're allowed to drink," he allows. "You're allowed to feel naughty."
Straddling his hips, Lawrence leans back as she slides down on to his lap. "What if I want to feel naughtier?"
"I can help with that," his hand slip around her and hold her as she slips into his kiss.