Which my mother, dog, and I did--or at least our version thereof--nineteen years ago. We were in the house my parents owned north of Tampa-St. Petersburg, a few miles in from the Gulf. The red warning banner crawled across the bottom of the TV. And suddenly the new house didn't seem like adequate protection against what was happening over our heads. The lights went out; the transmission towers in the distance flared blue. So the three of us went into the laundry room, sat on the floor, shut the door, and huddled by the washer and dryer, as if by being that close to the ground we'd be safer.
We passed our Boston terrier back and forth between our hands until she stopped shaking and panting and her heart calmed down.
This past Saturday it occurred to me that my mother had been gone one year, exactly. That day.
No wonder I'd been feeling restless and bored and incredibly tired of our hotel room. It felt good to put a name to that feeling, even if I was just feeling restless and bored.
*****
Mothers to Elephants. I can't look at an Elephant without thinking of mothers, and here are the pictures I'd promised. If you haven't already read Mark's post on our visit to the Audubon Zoo's Elephant House, you can read that here. Just one thing I'd like to add. I thought that proximity would make me feel closer to the elephants, but they were almost too much to take in up close. I got a better sense of their thinking, their humor, when I stood out there with the others, watching them shifting from side to side, turning their butts to the people. But every once in a while in the Elephant House I'd look up to their eyes, long lashed and a little wry, which let us know they were looking back.
4 comments:
weird where you find yourself on anniversaries...like you've just caught yourself or something's caught you.
as for those elephants. how can you look into those eyes without falling in love a bit?
Exactly Nancy.
Actually, I'm glad I have these pictures, because when you're a foot or two away, there's so much to take in that it's psychic overload. And then there's that trunk, always twisting and wanting.
Love that picture of Mark with the elephant reaching out behind him. Sounds like it was an intense time to be in La. with everything going on, especially what's happening in the Gulf. I'm glued to the ever worsening news of it.
Hope you guys are relaxing back there in the garden-with-frog now.
I've been glued to the news too--it was pretty intense down there, as the smell of petroleum couldn't be ignored; it comes and goes with the wind. I swear it was making my nostrils burn one night, though everyone else on the streets seemed to be okay with it. Bewildering. I can't imagine what it would be like to be right on top of it, on the shoreline. One of many, many things that no one's said much about. The whole thing breaks my heart. I've been pretty down about it.
As far as back here--yes, are beginning to relax, learning to sit still again. We had a big visitor to the pond yesterday--as in heron--who scared the remaining fish all the way to the bottom. A staggering sight. Luckily--for us at least--they've come back up to the surface.
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