I stood in my plot last night, the sun down but the sky still bright with lavender and honey. A doe walked by with her two freckled fawns. We saw her pregnant and then saw the babies brand new. We see them every day, marking the passing of summer with the fading of those white dots.
GIRLS. I whisper yelled to my daughters and they took giant tip toe steps to my side. The fawns nursed, violently pulling and biting at the doe. She steadied herself against the feast, swaying between her two babies, just on the other side of the garden fence. She then jumped straight up and over the fawns. They stumbled and followed after her. She kicked at them. They stopped and waited. She locked eyes with the fawns. She said something with her eyes. She walked, they followed, right at her side up the hill into the night. Good night.
I run in the mornings, usually pushing Ruby while Margot bikes by my side. Sometimes they don’t want to go. Usually, they really don’t want to go. They protest and hold grumpy stares as I tie my shoes and begin. I tell them I need this and we are in it together. I tell myself that they will remember riding creekside as the sun greets the day, they will remember our conversations about the difference between diamonds and crystals, they will remember a strong mama who gives all day and asks for this from them. I hold my tongue when the run is over. I want to say See! Look how awesome we all feel! Look how fun that was! Look at your smiles! I don’t. They know. I believe joy eclipses annoyance, especially when we make it so.
Ruby: Margot, is the end of the world coming?
Margot: No, Ruby. We don’t have the end of the world here. We are just alive.
Ruby, pressing her forehead together into a deep vertical crease: Hey look Margot! I made a vagina on my forehead!
The snow dumped heavy and steady for months. It melted into rivers under the bluest skies for months. Our spring was blooms upon blooms up hillsides, spilling into raging creeks. Everything slowed when the heat sauntered in, except the gardens. Roots snaking deep into the earth, greens sun saluting the warmth, fruit gaining circumference by the hour.
We haven’t had time or space to camp yet this summer and I am itching to get out there. And so we leave tomorrow, just my daughters and me. Not sure where yet; we will pack up and land where we will.
