On a humid night last October with stars streaming across the Barbados sky we awoke to the disappearing Noah trick. We couldn’t find him anywhere in the locked house. In a split second the well fineness of our world bolted toward chaos, panic and fear. Once resolved, we cosied up to love sweet love, hugged our boy and ourselves rocking until the rhythm like a magical balm soothed the ache.
The unexpected happens so quickly. There is no time to prepare. Instinctive reaction kicks in, takes over. Mé’s quick thinking on a walk with Nellie in Sorel saved the day and probably our little love too. Just arrived from Halifax and out walking they are – off to great-grandma to show off this youngest girl of girls. There is some work at a house they are about to pass and as they move through the driveway the tailgate of a truck is unhinged, drops and there is Nellie in its path. Adrenalin impels Mé’s arm cracking it like a whip and she breaks the falling metal shielding Nellie’s head. Our girl receives a reduced blow but it is enough to pop her breath as she sucks air in shock. One beat, two, she doesn’t inhale. Her eyes are wide, vacant. Breath comes back, no blood, still conscious.
Mé’s hand is red and bruised. Anger is boiling over ready to burn and scald. She yells out a string of imprecations, obscene invective to register her fury. No response. Driveway guy shows nothing on his face. Mé realizes that she is wound up in the English vernacular. In a less than a beat she switches effortlessly to an incendiary string of tabernac de calisse de ciboire d’hostie and beyond. A totally unexpected discourse on a sunny afternoon street. The apology was then forthcoming but it didn’t help with the survival induced rage. Arriving at great-grandma’s she needs a hug and a rest. Nellie is no worse for wear. Maman will be presented with the prestigious Order of Sorel-Eastern Passage for her quick save the day thinking that’s keeping Nellie on the right side of the light.
I wonder how Noah would have reacted had he been there. I think his eyes would have been large, large dilated pools listening to the pounding crash of maman’s torrential words. The blistering delivery would have lifted his little eyebrows up and over the crown of his head. Truly we would have been hearing more than ’shit’ slipping out of his mouth. He would have been there too for his Nellie and his maman sticking close, being concerned and loving. Maybe, just maybe he might have transformed himself into Super Bunny to the rescue. He has been super bunnying in the last week or so following a long hiatus. He’s back on track with Max and his wild adventures.
I need a Super Bunny to complete the many loose ends of domestic bliss that still remain undone scant hours before I roll out in the Sentra to points west. Some chores achieved, some outstanding. Need to wrap and get some sleep before 12 hours on the road.
Beezoos to my babies and beaucoup beezoos to ma belle.
Bonne nuit.
