Memories of Summer Mornings
I woke up early this morning, but Kelly’s now ex had dropped the pups earlier still. Ebony was sprawled out comfortably at the other side of the bed. Picasso was gently snoring on the floor, underneath the ceiling fan. It promised to be a hot day. The house was still. The room was hushed. It felt as if it was a reluctant to start the morning. Through the open windows, I could hear the cicadas hum their sibilant tune. They started with a gentle hum that gradually rose to a crescendo. I smile to myself as I rise from my bed. I do not want to laze in bed this morning. I want to sit on the porch and listen to them.
I go through my morning routine. I fill out the outdoor cat’s bowl. I pull the curtains back to let the daylight in. I unlock the door to the porch and set my cup of tea at the table there. My grandson, Teal, bless his kind heart, had gone to Costco yesterday. He brought me La Vache Qui Rit cheese spread. Yesterday we sat at the kitchen table and companionably snacked on it together. This morning I did the same thing. I spread the cheese on crackers topped with slices of tomatoes and cucumbers. I contentedly sipped my tea and nibbled my breakfast as I listened to the hum of the cicadas.
My mind went back to many summers ago. It was morning. The cicadas were humming their gentle tune. My parents had come for a visit from California. Peter and Kelly had gone to their respective jobs. Mama and Papa were sitting on the porch with me. Papa was smoking his pipe. Mama, who did not like the smell of his pipe, objected mildly.
“Eh, Yousef!” she demurred.
“What do you want? I promised not to smoke in the house. I am not in the house! We are sitting on the porch!” he declared. With that, he rustled his New York Times noisily and proceeded to hide behind his newspaper as he sucked on his pipe rebelliously.
With a displeased look on her face, Mama went into the house and soon reappeared with her little fancy lady’s fan. She made a great show of opening the fan and vigorously fanning the pipe smoke away from around her, while making sure of disturbing Papa from reading. I smiled to myself. Those two never tired of their antics. However, this little game was soon over, for Aunty Flora, Papa’s sister, arrived. She had stayed at her daughter Nancy’s house instead of in Ossining, in order to be able the visit with my parents. Since it was summer, I offered fruits and cold drinks as they sat and played Scrabbles. If we planned to go out for lunch, I would join them in a game, otherwise I prepared lunch. As the day progressed, I would lower the straw shades to make the porch cool. The overhead fan spun round and round, cooling the air as the cicadas hummed their tune. I lean back and remember those days. I am now much older than they were then. Time is fleeting. It has a way of going on and on. It stops for nothing and no one. It is unrelenting.
I lean back in my chair. I smile to myself. What happy memories I have. How grateful I am for the life I led…