Thursday, December 22, 2005

Dear Santa,
I’ve been working so hard you just wouldn’t believe. And I am tired! There’s so little time and so much to achieve, and I am tired!
I’ve been lying here holding the grass in its place, pressing a leaf with the side of my face, testing the apples to see if they’re sweet, counting the toes on a centipede’s feet.
I’ve been memorizing the shape of that cloud, warning the robins to not chirp so loud, shooing the butterflies off the tomatoes, keeping an eye out for floods and tornadoes.
I’ve been supervising the work of the ants and thinking of pruning the cantaloupe plants, timing the sun to see what time it sets, calling the fish to swim into my nets, and I’ve taken twelve thousand and forty one breaths.
And I’m TIRED, can I have my Christmas present now?

Ps: Merry Christmas everybody

Dear Mom,

There is a spot that you can’t scratch. Right between your shoulder blades, like an egg that just won’t hatch. Here you set and there it stays. Turn and squirm and try to reach it, twist your neck and bend your back, hear your elbows creak and crack, stretch your fingers. Now you bet it’s going to reach –no that won’t get it-. Hold your breathe and stretch and pray, only just an inch away. Worse than a sunbeam you can’t catch is that one spot you can’t scratch.
Well, dear mommy on this mother’s day and on any other days, just call me and I will scratch the itch for you.