The Spring Window

Today was the first day I was able to have the windows open. Emma is pinned to the screen, being bombarded with all the glorious noise she’s never heard and doesn’t understand. The garbage truck on the next block (near enough to be interesting, far enough to be safe). The mourning dove on the tree lawn. Other birds chirping in the trees rustling in the wind. Cars driving down Circular. Dogs from down the street barking their fool heads off.

Her tiny pink nose is twitching constantly as the breeze wafts in daffodils, cut grass, and rain. The neighbor across the street—the cop—returns home from his shift and her little bean head follows his ascent up the stairs to his mustard yellow house. Now her head swivels 180 degrees back and forth as the chimes from the other neighbor sound. She can’t place the source, and….a passing squirrel distracts her from the chimes.

May Sarton writes about cats reading the newspaper. This morning, Emma has stepped into a Las Vegas casino sports book where there’s screens on every side demanding her attention.

Tigger, meanwhile, the old gob, has found my cardigan sweater, newly washed, atop the dryer.