 One spring morning I awake to see the rising sun’s rays illuminate the patient lap of an old bear named Michael, perched on our windowsill. Michael is Jonathan’s childhood bear, worn threadbare, squashed, a calm, kind expression about the eyes. He has a tiny zippered pocket in his back that little-boy Jonathan used to turn inside-out to make Michael fly, “his magic parachute.”
Jonathan and the bed creak audibly as he gets up for work. I hear him down the hall - splash water on face, pick out dress shirt, slacks. He’s back, sits on the edge of the bed to put on socks. Michael looks on quietly. I wonder how often Jonathan looks back. It’s good to have old friends nearby. It’s good to remember childhood and magic parachutes. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 273: 130 words, TOTAL = 46,065; 13,935 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families. Archives
March 2021
Categories |
RSS Feed