the shakes...

as mémé would say, we're sleepy as daisies around here.

she also uses the state of daisies to describe how clean something is, how easy something is, how decidedly yummy something is, how fast of a runner her grae-girl is...somehow, it works.

yesterday was just a day. we all have them, yes? the earthquake shook our souls, and news of lill and grae's former teacher's sudden and devastating loss broke our hearts. in between that, i forgot to not be an impatient and irritable arse.




everything shattered around bedtime. it's funny how you can see all the cracks at night, isn't it?

lillie started it with an odd apology to grae that sounded something like if we have another earthquake and my bunk collapses on you...i'm sorry.

which is how grae ended up in our bed and how i ended up in her bottom bunk. at midnight.

before this midnight happening, though, i overheard esmé in the bathroom. brushing her teeth and sobbing, a mess of tears and toothpaste.

why did that baby have to die? she wailed. she was so brand new!

i don't have answers for questions like these. maybe no one really does. so i tried to explain that all the best people in the world? god wants them back. some way earlier than others.

that this little girl must've been so damn perfect that he decided her time here was enough. maybe she was promoted to head angel in charge of watching over and loving all the new babies in the world. maybe he thought she'd be perfect to whisper reassurances in the ears of nervous almost-moms. or maybe she could just be.

we sat there and thought of at least ten things she's probably doing right now. and none of them had anything to do with being sick. doctor's appointments. or her mom's crushed heart.

it almost sounds kind of nice, esmé whispered through wobbly, minted lips.

no. it really doesn't, i thought.




it's probably why russ frangella is still alive, she suggested. god doesn't want that guy around.

{for those of you who aren't familiar with russ frangella, he is an eighty-something pisser of a man from my hometown who was on one side of a construction project years and years ago. my dad was on the other side. which meant russ frangella's side was going nowhere. this was when my dad had cancer, and everyone but us knew he was at the end of his fight. so russ frangella all of a sudden backed off and told everyone "we just need to wait a month. he won't be around after that." i've never forgiven him for this. to the point that whenever the girlies and i go home, i drive by his house and honk the horn if he's outside so that he has to whip his old toothless head around, much to the glee of my naughty girlies three. i am vindictive, i guess. he also makes these wooden benches and paints them in cheery colors and then tries to sell them from his front lawn. i've not yet mustered up the courage to replace his FOR SALE signs with FREE FOR HAULING. yet.}

yes, well...i wasn't sure what to tell her about why russ frangella isn't yet in heaven.

that man is mean as a daisy.

some days, i just want to fly away. this is one of them. feathers found here.