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the first

The yarmarka (farmer's market) is about to close. Some of the people are already packing up, offering their last bruised tomatoes at half-price to anyone walking past them.  I am wandering, staring at bunches of herbs, at the same old options - cabbage, pepper, potato, garlic, apple, cucumber. But then I see a pile of peas. The season must have come early this year. I buy a kilo, and some mint. I know what is for dinner. We have not had it in eleven months.

At home, I rip the bag open, showing them to V. She stands by the kitchen table, eyes wide. I crack one open, showing her the little rounds inside. She plucks one out, her pinky pointing to the ceiling.
"Try it." I tell her.
She does, but she does not like it.

I pull out a bowl for them. She jumps up and down a few times. V always wants to help in the kitchen. I pull her to my lap, and we begin pulling them out from the shells. She learns quickly, tossing them with a flourish into the bowl, a few cascading to the flo…

coins, keys, clouds


We find two coins on the ground, both tails up. E presses them into her pocket and we agree to toss them into the fountain close to her mother's house. There is a statue there, not of a war hero or an artist - a larger-than-life statue of an ordinary man. As we approach I wonder if the water is turned off already. Yesterday it snowed for an hour. Tiny cold specks danced on the car windshield.

The water is not splashing from the rocks down into the pool, but it is still wet.

I toss mine first. E goes overhand, missing the pool entirely. She runs into the grass to retrieve it, her arms straight by her sides in that odd rigid posture she has found.

E throws the coin more carefully.

Later we find a tiny key on the sidewalk. She pockets it as well.
"Pop." She tells me in the noisy street. "I know how to make right wishes."
"What makes a right wish?" I ask her.
"Well, I wish for animals because I care a lot about animals." She says, her mouth twisting around. "And I wish for right things, like living in Brooklyn, or for Spongebob being my friend forever."
"Ah." I say.
"And about chocolate." She adds, quickly.

We walk in silence, as dead leaves twist in the afternoon sky.

At home she will practice guitar while I make dinner. She will read a book, her legs twisted impossibly as she tells me what each page might say. She is making it up as she goes along.
There is a massive thumping and grinding sound from the apartment below ours. She presses her hands to her ears, running around the house. It has been going on for days. I imagine someone is building something and then breaking it down over and over again.


She brushes her teeth. We stand on the dark balcony looking at the traffic trickling along the river. Her mouth moves in silence.

"I was just wishing again." She says after she is done. "You can wish on clouds or balconies if you are very very quiet."
I nod, making no sound.

After she has gone to sleep, with furry dolls clutched tight to her chest I go back to the balcony and do the same.


Comments

liv said…
Such a funny pose for little girls. I did that too all the time when I was growing up, as did my daughter.

Here's hoping dreams come true and wishes get granted.

Toss....
Omgrrrl said…
Agree with Liv. I did that all the time. Still do.

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