Mud

After the hounds have drank and bathed in its waters, the stream continues eastward into the horse pastures. Here, the horses tromp paths across its width, turning its banks to mudslides. Seeing this from the driveway, Libby and I dismounted our bicycles and parted to claim turf along the stream. Taking up heaps of muck, we battled. After peace was restored, we saw Mr. Wiley’s car creeping up the driveway. At almost ninety years old, he must have been quite pleased to see us, with our mud-stained faces and clothes, still enjoying the games he surely played as a boy.

Your Party

When B calls the day of my mom’s birthday, and tells her the party’s at 5:30. What she’s really saying is this:

"I lied, the party’s at six, but you guys always show up a half hour late. Aunt Ali’s leaving early, so we’re eating dinner right away. And even though it’s your birthday, get ready to give her a back massage (she’s been up since four). Also Aunt Karen’s been worked up about political conspiracy theories again lately, so watch out for a fight. And the cake fell into the sink. Anyway, Happy Birthday - see you soon!"

Momentum

As part of natural sisterly adaptation, our maturity levels roughly synced up, as mine heightened and Libby’s lowered to meet halfway. In this, we generally lived as equals, and so were often mistaken as triplets. Because of this, I rarely begrudged my position in the birth order. Once though, on the basset’s annual fourth of July bike ride, Mother insisted that I practice braking during the descents while Libby and Sarah were allowed to coast freely. Speeding to catch up, perhaps I gained higher momentum which allowed me to move out, marry, and buy a home at the earliest age.

Back to School

Mothers and daughters everywhere excitedly search Gap Kids for the perfect first day of school clothes. After browsing some, they compromise, pairing the bold flower-print shirt with the knee-length tan shorts. At home, the clothes are hung neatly in the closet. Miles away, at the Gilbert house, my Mother’s closet looks strangely similar, heavily evoking the “first day of third grade” style. It’s in the dirtied Keds, patterned capris, and second-hand, brightly-colored tee-shirts with their tags out-turned. Standing next to Daddy in his hole-ridden, dirty polo shirts and khaki shorts, they make the cutest couple in all the third grade.

Dobbins

June 25, 2015
When gluten-free meets playground safety, the Dobbin Mothers emerge from their dander-free homes. This new generation of bored mothers dominate your local school board. And when their children first turn down candy, they become Dobbins, products of the win-win world. Our second cousins were raised Dobbins, and without pre-existing terminology to describe them, my family coined this generic name to represent every child within this sect of society. So when Aunt Jen’s perfect little family comes up from their ostentatious yet middle class house, we ask if the Dobbins will be visiting, or is our home just too, ya know…

Squinty-Eye Disease

June 24, 2015

During the summer’s early morning hunts, we often look upon the dawn through squinted eyes. The cause of this limited vision previously unknown, Libby coined the affliction most simply “Squinty-Eye Disease.” Through her rampant cases, she identified the cause: too many pretzels. One morning, however, she awoke with squinty eyes even though the pretzel jar had been empty for days. This new development warranted reopening the case, which ended this time with salt, generally, as the culprit. Despite this new information, at the sight of squinted eyes, we ask Libby if maybe she ate one too many pretzels last night.

Love Luck

June 23, 2015
While others experience dumb luck, Alec and I are blessed with love luck. Under this force, the world treats us wonderfully simply because we are so in love. We first recognized this the day of our wedding. In out last minute search for a place to spend the night before our hiking honeymoon, a women sent us away from her dingy and cluttered motel as she directed us a few minutes down the road to a bed and breakfast which overlooked the Great Sacandaga Lake. Here, the happy inn-owners gave us the key to room number six (Alec’s favorite number) and told us of the southern rock band scheduled to play in the living room that evening. Later, we listened alongside strangers who had been informed of our story and celebrated accordingly. While a man bought us glasses of wine, the singer gave us a shout-out, thanking us for coming to celebrate with them. Throughout the night, the bass player pointed to the two of us and thumbs-upped his approval at our union before hugging us both in an overflow of happiness at our good fortune at finding one another. And so our unplanned reception continued in all its perfection.