Saturday, February 02, 2008

witness

Often, what I want more than anything in my day is a witness.

Someone around who understands the juggling act if not first-hand, then from just off to the side, who stands apart from the think-on-your-feet decisions and sees. Someone who can answer my husband with something less than murder in their eyes when he asks, "Why are you so tired?"

Someone to witness the clever ways I talk my child into brushing his teeth while getting myself dressed and writing a check for the rent. Doing a phone interview standing at the washing machine in the garage while Isaac naps. (Our house is so small and he is such a light sleeper, I'd wake him up anywhere else.) The lessons in everything from social protocol to neuroscience that spring from our book reading, water playing, phone ringing, daddy waiting, internet searching, cat vomiting, insane making days.

Luckily for you, you aren't that witness, and nor can I report my day minute by minute. But here is a moment in time, or, a mountain of moments all come together. I call it, My Coffee Table, An Inventory.

-- one hair tie
-- two newspapers
-- the alumni newsletter from my grad school
-- box of tissues
-- fliers for our neighborhood association
-- a door nob
-- Buddha by Karen Armstrong
-- The Sunny Side: Short Stories and Poems for Proper Grown-Ups by A. A. Milne
-- three stuffed dogs
-- a matchbox car
--Found Magazine
-- a Christmas card from Mike's college friend with a picture of him, his wife, and his FIVE daughters
-- a pressure gauge
-- a suction cup
-- a can of pink Playdoh
-- Offbeat Overnights: A Guide to the Most Unusual Places to Stay in California
-- How to Read a Poem and Fall in Love with Poetry by Edward Hirsch
-- brochure for toddler gymnastics
--"Important Voter Information" for the California Primary Election
-- Day Hikes around Big Sur by Robert Stone
-- an inflatable fire truck
-- a purple seahorse magnifying glass
-- a paper hat
-- a paper cutter
-- a paper clip in the shape of a cat

Come by anytime. We'll have a cup of tea and I'll tell you about my day.

2 comments:

bobbie said...

You are truly your mother's daughter,

Barbara said...

I'm a witness! I'm a witness! Pick me! I've often thought of doing such an inventory of my kitchen floor, with all the stuff E. pulls off and puts there.

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