Chelan

He takes a heavy text book out of his backpack. Its weight was too much for the bike ride to school, just as I’d warned him.

I make his lunch and then glancing up through the back window, something with a huge wingspan catches my eye and draws me in for closer look as it slowly descends to the creekside in the back. It’s the gray Crane I’ve seen many times before. The closest I can imagine a prehistoric bird might look like. There’s something about its size and grace as it flies, demanding my attention. I call Angel over and we watch it walk in the creek, precariously looking around for all but two minutes before it takes flight again, in a confused pattern, obviously trying to find a safe passageway out of the maze of branches above.

She asks me if we can gel up her hair, but I insist on turning on the curling iron for six or seven flippy curls…a style her new shag cut simply demands. “There!” I say. “Woah!” she says back.

My coffee is cooling down way too fast.

Her iPod is spewing tinny sounds of cheesy pop rock so I change it Christian Dub-step.

I give a fourth reminder to her to eat some breakfast. She half-smiles and rolls her green eyes at me. Her beauty has a way of eclipsing my every effort to get frustrated.

His jersey tank is acceptable today. It’ll be over 60 degrees. His jacket is nowhere, so he finds a long-sleeve, just for the ride. I pour Chocolate Chex into a custom lunch baggie I made from Press n Seal Glad wrap, and throw it in his paper bag on top of the rest of his lunch; an added snack. I staple the top. And tell him I love him, trying to steal a kiss to the temple while escaping the smell of his Axe hair putty.

I make him stay for just thirty seconds longer in the kitchen while I pray for his day, my hands on either side of his face. “No, mom! There’s no time!” I insist and pray anyway, as he watches the stove clock the whole time, his head pressing against my left hand in the direction of the door. I say something like “furtherance of the Kingdom”, a phrase I immediately question if he understood, and then “blessing everyone he sees”, a phrase that surely covered the former.

He zooms away.

Another bird catches my eye – a Blue Jay. I know that kind, because of its arrogant looking faux-hawk. Then two Red-headed Woodpeckers start fighting over who gets possession of the birdhouse. Their bodies are black feathered with white dots. Such a stark contrast.

She changes into the shirt and scarf I recommended. I feel listened to.

Thirty more seconds will do it this time.
Mmmm. Just a little more creamer, one pump of DaVinci sweetener, and it’s perfect.