The beds were lumpy. Everything was old and musty. The scent of countless winters of neglect hung in the air. Paint peeled from porch steps. The worn floorboards screamed of countless summers of delight.
No Tee Vee.
No Wee Fee
No A Cee.
The windows did not open.
The heat and humidity both inside and out?
For the four of us
(and our four furry accomplices)
It was perfek.
Bike riding on red sands
Expansive pastures and expensive pastries.
Wool and waterslides.
Jump off the pier.
Let the river take you.
We played it a full afternoon.
Filled with flaky whitefish.
It was such a lovely circle.
So many circles together.
Ferris wheels, tilt-a-whirl, go karts.
Engineered circles of processed cheese.
All so delightful
On our last night?
The circles were broken by chain lightning and downpours.
Odin’s concert sent the dogs scrambling under beds, while we sat and enjoyed the misty edge of the storm from the cedar porch.
The air smells different.
A cool breeze is blowing.
Another summer is coming to its end.
Another circle completing itself.
The kids played go fish on the floor while we loaded up the van.
A drive home to complete another circle.
Far too soon they’ll drive on their own.
Their circles will spiral off on their own remarkable and ridiculous paths.
Until then, my daughter will say that I’m ‘Too Zen’ [what the flat out flying fuck does that even mean? I’m a united church of canada dude] when I cry with joy. Our life is just that fucking beautiful.
And filled with little, empty, meaningless circles that matter so much.
Before we left to drive home?
One final circle.
I make it around them.
The whole world right there, inside of my arms.
My arms the doughnut.
All of them with bits of my heart at their centre.
Jimbits of love.