Sunday scene
August 03, 2009
Sunday evening is a mess. A literal mess - the Sunday paper seems to have exploded, the kitchen is a tangle of dishes, because everyone prepares their own snacky dinner, and somehow my family seems to celebrate the Lord's Day by abandoning all their shoes in the living room. Clay and Max are sprawled on the floor, playing a hard-fought game of chess, and they pass Sophia back and forth between them. Whoever has her on his lap at the moment claims her as their personal cheerleader, despite my pleas not to lead her down the morally slippery slope of chess cheerleader. Unruffled by any of us, Sophia chews on any finger she can access, and cheerfully yanks at fistfuls of Max's hair.
Tre is fiddling with his guitar. One of his strings has come unstrung, and he is trying to fix it and getting annoyed. He mutters and complains and shows it to Clay. Finally, he manages to get the string wound correctly, and he strums a triumphant chord. It is so wickedly out of tune that we all wince, and Tre laughs and sets to tuning his guitar.
Raphael has just gotten out of the shower, and he is lying on the floor, watching the chess game, wrapped in his blue fuzzy blanket. His hair is otter-sleek against his head, and Clay asks him why he didn't dry it off after his shower. "But I DID," Raphael insists, and he bursts out laughing at Clay's look of disbelief.
I sit at the computer, paging through blogs. I turn to take in the messy end-of-Sunday scene.
How can such disorder fit so nicely in place?
Those are the best times, aren't they?
Posted by: A Jen Too Many | August 03, 2009 at 06:05 AM
this makes my heart so full and happy it hurts. lovely, Kira. I'm sort of sniffling. Which is HOTT, I'm sure. ;)
seriously, beautifully written.
Posted by: wendy | August 03, 2009 at 02:47 PM