Tuesday, February 23, 2010

what will become of us?

The day starts early with Dylan's alarm buzzing.
The sun shines and it continues cold with water frozen on the driveway.
Dylan showers and dresses for school. Ray stays in bed, his first hour is AUT, which means freedom for him and the need to not drive to school and attend a class. It is free time, he didn't need to take any classes this semester and has only four, opting to graduate with his class rather than a semester, even a year, early.
The catera continues to sit outside the house, near the curb, covered in old ice and snow--the neighbors love us. Really, they don't care. The same group of boys lives next door this year as last. They drive old vehicles, keep a piano in their garage which they play from time to time, have large parties periodically. They're good kids. Interesting. Something is always going on.
While Dylan finishes up getting ready for school I wash dishes in the sink and sweep the kitchen floor, gathering up recyclables and placing them in the front sunroom, near the door.
"Can you take me to school now?"..It is Dylan and I am wearing shorts around the house and a t-shirt so I tell him to start the car while I change into appropriate driving clothes. The thermometer in the car reads 18 degrees Farenheit. "Is spring ever going to come?"..It is Dylan and we are driving the outer road to Providence. "Well, the days are getting longer but it does seem as if it will be cold forever."..then, "I could use a little bit of that global warming about now."..And Dylan sits silent, looking out at the traffic ahead of us. The drive to school is quiet, we are both lost in our own thoughts. I drop him off at the north door of the highschool, "Bye mom." And he jumps out of the car, grabbing his backpack. The drive home is uneventful, Ray is in the kitchen helping himself to coffee and fixing cereal. Sitting at the diningroom table writing out the March bills I can hear the spoon clinking the sides of the bowl as he sits in the livingroom eating, the cup of coffee still sits on the kitchen counter.

No comments:

Post a Comment