Inchworms

Inchworms dangle from the trees above, like raindrops frozen in place. I don’t need an umbrella though, I can steer my horse around them, occasionally lying against his neck when one drops down unexpectedly. Some surely will hitchhike atop the horses’ rumps or on my shoulder. They will find happiness in thicker, greener foliage. But that is a small percentage, those are the lucky ones. Others, who have completed their skydive, inch their silky green bodies along the dirt road with purpose. Hooves and paws, unknowing, trample them. I will the feet to avoid them. I try not to watch.

Guilt or Fear

Apparently against the use of bribery as motivation to clean, Mother would choose between guilt or fear. If she chose the fear route, she would tell us that we surely will be taken away and put in a foster home if child services got a look at that bathroom sink. If she decided to guilt us, we were told that our cluttered bedroom floors were endangering firemen’s lives. They would inevitably trip over my clothes and fall into the junk-fueled flames engulfing our home. Early on she figured out guilt was more effective, and so she now employs it regularly.

Pa-tooie

With sticks for weaponry, and Surplice, our pet basset hound, as a fellow soldier, my sisters and I ran through the fields as rival armies. Though we had plenty of fun hiding behind the deserted chicken coop or in the uncut hay, our favorite part was army crawling. Libby was the best at it, but even Surplice shuffled along on her belly. When it came time to attack, we got one little detail wrong. Because unlike little boys, we were unaware of the traditional shooting sound effects ‘bang’ and ‘pow’. Instead, when our imaginary pistols fired, we’d shout “pa-tooie! pa-tooie!”

Stability

While I am not particularly well suited to aquatic life, Alec grew up swimming beside his parents’ boats. But we played well together on our visit to the ocean, romping in the waves for hours. With too much seawater in my belly, nose, ears, and eyes, I became giddy and disoriented, losing my bearings almost entirely. But I didn’t need to stand up straight or know which way shore was; Alec held me, tossed me, retrieved me, like the water dogs he grew up with. It’s a wonderful privilege to be able to release all control, and still have stability.

Junie

Our long walk this morning tired little Junie out a good bit, so she’s been curled up beside me as I read Reader's Digest outside. She wakes up, stretches, and kisses me sweetly on the mouth, without overstaying her welcome or slipping her tongue up my nose. A kiss like that is never given by your ordinary dog. It’s not the “I miss you” kiss, or a “thank you”, or a “come play” or a “let me get that off your face” kiss, it’s just an “I love you.” I say it outloud back to her, and she seems satisfied.

Accents

When coming home from Aldie, my family adopts the deep Southern accent of a Tennessee dairy farmer. Hound show season drives us to speak like the British foxhound huntsman. At other times, we speak like Eastern Europeans after so frequently listening to Nana’s Lithuanian housekeepers. Aunt Karen, B, and Aunt Ali despised that accent after a few months of it. So we changed again, this time picking up the “Abby Voice,” from cousin Abby. It’s moved beyond just a voice, it’s an entire personality now. Even her mother inadvertently starts in on it when she overhears us. It’s very contagious.

Memorabilia

I pull my eyelid away from my eye, allowing air to fill the void. When I drop it back into place, a bit of air becomes trapped. So I gather the air of my favorite places: Aldie air under my left eyelid, and the Millbrook wind under my right. When summer comes, and my family visits Manasquan, both eyelid pockets are full, leaving no room for the ocean air. I could take a picture instead. Back in Pennsylvania, no memorabilia clutters my little home, yet I still have a little bit of Virginia and upstate New York with me always.