Slowly, slowly life is going back to normal. Just after 8 AM this morning Ann left for Lexington and Don goes to work at 3 PM; tomorrow I work. I'll probably take down the tree on Tuesday and gather up all the stray tubes of Christmas wrap and boxes that slid under side tables and put them away for another year. There is a bit of English toffee left, the last of the party mix will be eaten today, and the rum balls, oh, the rum balls are still lurking in the fridge in their chocolaty, coconutty goodness. Mmmm, I think I'll have one right now. There will be enough Christmas soup for me to take some as work lunches this coming week and I'll think about having my family around me as I sip their warming goodness in the dive shop. It has been a good holiday, but I'm happy that it's over and life will soon go back to what passes for normal at our house. Well, except for the fact that in about 10 days Don and I will fly off to spend a month in Bonaire, which is normal here, I guess.
The stars hang closer in the tropics. Santiago steered the Santa Marta out of the little bay on the north coast of Venezuela he called home. The stink of the aging diesel was pulled out of the cabin when he reached the open ocean and pushed the throttles to their stops. He took one last glance over his shoulder to bid farewell to the orange spot that was the fire his wife Marta always lit on the beach when he left, but he had waited too long to turn, he couldn't see it. A bolt of panic shot through his guts, the superstition of bad luck at the change in routine churned his stomach and made his knees feel loose. "Stupid peasant," he said, running his fingers over the religious medal he wore around his neck and making a little bow to the statue of the Virgin duct taped to the console. He pictured the warm orange light of Marta's fire as he looked out at the waves painted pale blue and white by the cold light of the stars. Manning would be waiting and he, Santiago, would soon be rich enough to buy a new engine for his boat, with a bit left over for a few sparkly things for his Marta.
I'm hoping that there's one last fly-over at kickoff today. I need a nice big loud airplane to rumble over. I love airplanes.
--Barbara
No comments:
Post a Comment