Rain on Wednesday . . . of course there is rain starting on Wednesday. I really need to talk to her about that . . . no, the children are more important, but, well, don't want a repeat of last time. Maybe she could hold off just enough that I could make my connection this time. Probably a good chance. She really, really didn't want me to go last time. Special circumstances and all. This Wednesday rain is just the normal pre-travel gloom type of weather I think. Not the rearrange-the-universe type of event we had last time.
I really have to talk to her . . .
"Dear heart of mine. The reason of my joy. Could we have a little chat?"
"No. I'm mad at you."
"I know, but it's important."
"You're leaving and I'm upset."
"You told me to."
"I know, but I'm still upset. And it doesn't have to make sense. I get to feel how I want to because you are leaving."
"I will be back. I took the quickest flights. No long layovers in fun places. Can I get credit for that?"
"Maybe, but I haven't decided yet. Have to wait and see how much of my list you get done."
"Yes, I know. Making progress on it. Anyway, could we talk about Saturday? The one after I leave?"
"What about it?"
"It's just that there is an outdoor activity for all the young kids at the park, and the committee was wondering if you might see fit to help them out for a couple hours?"
"With what?"
"You know . . . the weather thing . . . "
"I haven't the foggiest what you even are talking about," she says with a barely perceptible smirk.
"Yes, I'm sure you don't . . . and I suppose it is no coincidence that I leave on Thursday and a storm starts rolling in Wednesday night according to the weather report? Just like it does every time?"
"Mere speculation and happenstance is all."
"Still, could you happenstance your way to a few hours of limited precipitation on Saturday morning between 8 and 2 let's say? I mean that probably will mean a blizzard Sunday night, but I think it would be nice if you could try."
"Oh sure, I will try, but the blizzard is happening Sunday morning. I hate going to church when you aren't here. Such a drag!"
"Suit yourself. It'll be 95 and sunny with 90% humidity for me regardless of what you do here, so I will be paying a price. That should help you feel better . . . "
"I'm sure you'll manage."
We used to joke about it at first. Maybe the full strength of her power hadn't been realized. Or maybe you dismiss what seems incredible at first. But the evidence just kept piling up. Lately, it had gotten downright factual. I had to endure several calls a week from concerned citizens asking if I was leaving town on such and such a day, and if so could I talk to my wife on their behalf. Hey, at least they aren't burning her at the stake. I think they know she is a good witch, and she has come through now and then.
We have been trying to figure it out. Best we can tell it is her great-grandma from France whose family had the ability. In the old days they were a lot more open and accepting of supernatural gifts. The arrival in America in the late 1800's took the openness away. It didn't do anyone any good to be an immigrant that had strange powers. Not openly anyway. It was the type of thing that got you blamed for crop failures and ostracized to a life of poverty and persecution. So, the talk of it stopped. The secrets were hidden. The memory of the reality of the power was suppressed and all but forgotten. For a time.
But the great-grandmother would whisper in her granddaughters ears funny little secrets. Subtle encouragements. As soon as she notice the glint in her eye and the way the wind moved around her in respectful and penitent way. It was these small things, these things that had also happened to her, that let her know the gift was not lost. It was their little secret, but the granddaughter got older and forgot the special whispers and tiny moments. The great-grandmother also left and was all but forgotten and years passed without incident.
The granddaughter grew up and became a mother to three remarkable girls. She only knew that two of them were remarkable and one of them didn't quite fit in. She also knew that this bothered her for a reason that it shouldn't and she had memories of something she should have remembered but had nearly completely forgotten, and this also upset her. So the third daughter made her uncomfortable and made her distant. It was hard for both of them. They never seemed to be able to be close but neither knew exactly why. They were cogs that never engaged completely. A relationship that always was out of sync.
Still, the mother did notice that her third daughter had an odd brightness in her eyes. A curiosity that never waned. A kindness that was unbreakable, and that the wind seemed to flow around her in odd ways that almost seemed like deference to a fairy queen. So, though she didn't understand why she felt at odds with her daughter, she could never be cruel to her no matter how frustrated she got because her daughter didn't fit in to the family mold. Something told her she needed to find out a way to remember that thing she forgot that she forgot. So, she was cold but never cruel, and though she stayed at arms length from her daughter, she never pushed her away. Besides, they had their own secrets and special moments. She seemed to be able to do certain things around this daughter that the other two just didn't get. Especially the secret trips to the drive through to buy forbidden deep fried delicacies and colossally caloric milkshakes. She tried with daughter one and two, but they were always worried about appearances or health or boys or some other nonsense, and never embraced the adventure like third daughter did.
At 20 she married the boy she had met when she was 15 and with whom had always almost been the best of couples, but never totally hit it off until both had left home for a season and learned just exactly who in the world they were. Or mostly who they were, but enough to fall deeply in love. Maybe it was this that made her powers manifest so perfectly on their wedding day. After all, if you told anyone that you were married in August in Arizona, they would immediately wonder if it was as miserable as they imagined or likely even worse. It wasn't for the weather that they chose that day, it was for convenience. School was starting and they had to get three states over before then and it would be very nice if they were married since they just had the one bed and were old fashioned about that sort of thing.
Instead the day was 75 degrees and partly cloudy with intermittent sprinkles that only occurred when the two of them were inside buildings or inside vehicles. The weather was miraculously perfect for both comfort and picture taking. Never had such a day happened in August and never likely would it happen again. It was just too unbelievable. So much so, in fact, that something happened that day. A spark in the mother's memory. A voice from her long forgotten grandmother. Little whispers fluttered in her ears as she watched her third daughter stand in the reception line, all smiles and joy and twinkling eyes. The whispers grew into words and the words into thoughts and the thoughts into memories of quiet moments when the most special of secrets were told to her in hushed and conspiratorial tones.
It was then she knew what she should have known all along. It was then that the distance between them began to close and disappear. When a mother with two remarkable daughters and a confusing daughter became a mother with two pretty great daughters and one very remarkable and amazingly powerful and gifted daughter. A daughter she finally understood. A daughter much more like her than she realized. A daughter she had some new secrets to share with that were even better than drive-thru onion rings and egg rolls.
I really have to talk to her . . .
"Dear heart of mine. The reason of my joy. Could we have a little chat?"
"No. I'm mad at you."
"I know, but it's important."
"You're leaving and I'm upset."
"You told me to."
"I know, but I'm still upset. And it doesn't have to make sense. I get to feel how I want to because you are leaving."
"I will be back. I took the quickest flights. No long layovers in fun places. Can I get credit for that?"
"Maybe, but I haven't decided yet. Have to wait and see how much of my list you get done."
"Yes, I know. Making progress on it. Anyway, could we talk about Saturday? The one after I leave?"
"What about it?"
"It's just that there is an outdoor activity for all the young kids at the park, and the committee was wondering if you might see fit to help them out for a couple hours?"
"With what?"
"You know . . . the weather thing . . . "
"I haven't the foggiest what you even are talking about," she says with a barely perceptible smirk.
"Yes, I'm sure you don't . . . and I suppose it is no coincidence that I leave on Thursday and a storm starts rolling in Wednesday night according to the weather report? Just like it does every time?"
"Mere speculation and happenstance is all."
"Still, could you happenstance your way to a few hours of limited precipitation on Saturday morning between 8 and 2 let's say? I mean that probably will mean a blizzard Sunday night, but I think it would be nice if you could try."
"Oh sure, I will try, but the blizzard is happening Sunday morning. I hate going to church when you aren't here. Such a drag!"
"Suit yourself. It'll be 95 and sunny with 90% humidity for me regardless of what you do here, so I will be paying a price. That should help you feel better . . . "
"I'm sure you'll manage."
We used to joke about it at first. Maybe the full strength of her power hadn't been realized. Or maybe you dismiss what seems incredible at first. But the evidence just kept piling up. Lately, it had gotten downright factual. I had to endure several calls a week from concerned citizens asking if I was leaving town on such and such a day, and if so could I talk to my wife on their behalf. Hey, at least they aren't burning her at the stake. I think they know she is a good witch, and she has come through now and then.
We have been trying to figure it out. Best we can tell it is her great-grandma from France whose family had the ability. In the old days they were a lot more open and accepting of supernatural gifts. The arrival in America in the late 1800's took the openness away. It didn't do anyone any good to be an immigrant that had strange powers. Not openly anyway. It was the type of thing that got you blamed for crop failures and ostracized to a life of poverty and persecution. So, the talk of it stopped. The secrets were hidden. The memory of the reality of the power was suppressed and all but forgotten. For a time.
But the great-grandmother would whisper in her granddaughters ears funny little secrets. Subtle encouragements. As soon as she notice the glint in her eye and the way the wind moved around her in respectful and penitent way. It was these small things, these things that had also happened to her, that let her know the gift was not lost. It was their little secret, but the granddaughter got older and forgot the special whispers and tiny moments. The great-grandmother also left and was all but forgotten and years passed without incident.
The granddaughter grew up and became a mother to three remarkable girls. She only knew that two of them were remarkable and one of them didn't quite fit in. She also knew that this bothered her for a reason that it shouldn't and she had memories of something she should have remembered but had nearly completely forgotten, and this also upset her. So the third daughter made her uncomfortable and made her distant. It was hard for both of them. They never seemed to be able to be close but neither knew exactly why. They were cogs that never engaged completely. A relationship that always was out of sync.
Still, the mother did notice that her third daughter had an odd brightness in her eyes. A curiosity that never waned. A kindness that was unbreakable, and that the wind seemed to flow around her in odd ways that almost seemed like deference to a fairy queen. So, though she didn't understand why she felt at odds with her daughter, she could never be cruel to her no matter how frustrated she got because her daughter didn't fit in to the family mold. Something told her she needed to find out a way to remember that thing she forgot that she forgot. So, she was cold but never cruel, and though she stayed at arms length from her daughter, she never pushed her away. Besides, they had their own secrets and special moments. She seemed to be able to do certain things around this daughter that the other two just didn't get. Especially the secret trips to the drive through to buy forbidden deep fried delicacies and colossally caloric milkshakes. She tried with daughter one and two, but they were always worried about appearances or health or boys or some other nonsense, and never embraced the adventure like third daughter did.
At 20 she married the boy she had met when she was 15 and with whom had always almost been the best of couples, but never totally hit it off until both had left home for a season and learned just exactly who in the world they were. Or mostly who they were, but enough to fall deeply in love. Maybe it was this that made her powers manifest so perfectly on their wedding day. After all, if you told anyone that you were married in August in Arizona, they would immediately wonder if it was as miserable as they imagined or likely even worse. It wasn't for the weather that they chose that day, it was for convenience. School was starting and they had to get three states over before then and it would be very nice if they were married since they just had the one bed and were old fashioned about that sort of thing.
Instead the day was 75 degrees and partly cloudy with intermittent sprinkles that only occurred when the two of them were inside buildings or inside vehicles. The weather was miraculously perfect for both comfort and picture taking. Never had such a day happened in August and never likely would it happen again. It was just too unbelievable. So much so, in fact, that something happened that day. A spark in the mother's memory. A voice from her long forgotten grandmother. Little whispers fluttered in her ears as she watched her third daughter stand in the reception line, all smiles and joy and twinkling eyes. The whispers grew into words and the words into thoughts and the thoughts into memories of quiet moments when the most special of secrets were told to her in hushed and conspiratorial tones.
It was then she knew what she should have known all along. It was then that the distance between them began to close and disappear. When a mother with two remarkable daughters and a confusing daughter became a mother with two pretty great daughters and one very remarkable and amazingly powerful and gifted daughter. A daughter she finally understood. A daughter much more like her than she realized. A daughter she had some new secrets to share with that were even better than drive-thru onion rings and egg rolls.
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