While walking up the stairs yesterday, I paused by the landing window to watch a squirrel, bounding towards the house across a stretch of unbroken snow. A second later, the wall to my left was full of a frantic scratching - long claws raking plaster and wood - as he climbed up to the attic. Then, quiet. For the most part the squirrels keep to themselves up there, but any family living in such close quarters will suffer the occasional outburst, and I was woken a few days ago by the noise of a full-on bar brawl; the sound of accusations and counter accusations flying thick and fast along with more scratching, squeaking, and finally a thump near the heating vent in my ceiling that was followed by a long and ominous quiet. Sensing that this might just be the first round, I grabbed a book and a sweatshirt and headed downstairs.

When I arrived in the kitchen, the coffee pot - an old, black plastic hand-me-down from my cousin - was already bubbling away, and dad was several chapters in to that morning's reading regimen. He greeted me with the news that Donald Trump had just been endorsed by Sarah Palin ("Reality Star Turned Politician Endorsed by Politician Turned Reality Star"). I poured myself a mug and joined him, setting my morning's material down beside a sunny corner of the couch, where I could balance my coffee on an arm while turning pages. Occasionally, dad would hoist himself up and go back to the dining room to fill his coffee mug or write an email, but it was never for long, and soon he'd be back beside the chair, squinting at spines, pondering which volume to chip away at next.

Later, after mom had been taken to respite care and I was free to leave for a bit, I pulled on my wool pants from Hanoi, my gray gloves from Munich, my hiking boots from high school and the Portland peacoat that now fits me like a industrial garbage bag. Chai declined to budge, so I left her behind, heading uphill. The day was cool and clear and blue soon I was walking along the spine of Sawyer Hill, ice glittering beneath a thin layer of sand. Traffic was heavy. A family of turkeys slowly made their way across the dip just past the Munsey's house, and a grouse exploded up from the orchard near Adam's driveway. I waved at cars as they went by and turned around by the cemetery, noting as I did that it was late in the day, and already the gravestones were casting long shadows across the snow.

Comments

ylls
Yep. This one actually made me tear up a bit. Less the squirrels (as they tend to give me the heebie jeebies when they scratch in the walls near my head) than all the rest. Thanks for stirring up all that quiet nostalgia in my tummy.