Kaleidoscope
Mike stands in the driveway and chortles at me. I look up from the punishing task of pulling a deeply rooted dandelion out of the adobe soil. At least he’s not witnessing me trying to conk a salesman on the head, like the first day we met. He reaches down, picks up a handful of dirt, and makes a face.
“Are you here to make amends?”
“To this?” He lets the dirt filter back to the earth through his fingers. “This soil could use amending, that’s for sure.”
“To this.” I tap my heart. “Not one letter.”
“Oh Dee, I know you get plenty of information on my activities.”
I bring Mike inside and go wash up. Over tea, he tells me he’s back for a few months, but only to wrap things up with the Diocese before he makes a permanent move to Berkeley. The seminary has offered him a teaching post. More than that, Saint Mark’s in Berkeley has asked him to lead sensitivity groups in their student ministry. They are offering a small stipend and holding out the promise of a staff position at some future date.
“What does this mean for you and Laura?”
“Let’s not talk about that yet. I have something I need to ask you. My boys from last term would like to have a reunion, and they’d like to have it here.” He sweeps his hand around the living room. “They love your house.”
I’m confused. “Are you starting a new session? Here?”
“No, this is a one-shot deal. Do you think your neighbors could put up with us one last time?”
“We won’t ask them.”
“Maybe we should. Ask them, I mean.”
“For their permission to entertain in our own home?”
“No, invite them to the party. Well, it’s not for me to say, and the boys would want to meet together first, but it would be an opportunity for them to test their skills in the real world.”
“With nasty neighbors who hate them?”
“With people who have preconceived ideas. We haven’t made much of an effort to change their minds. Hard hearts won’t change, but sometimes the one you think is least likely to come around surprises you.”
The next surprise is Valerie. She likes this idea.
R
In the middle of party planning, Valerie gets it into her head to add a dog to the family. She thinks that if we walk a cute puppy up and down the road, people will fall in love with us. Thirty seconds after she gets Andy’s approval, they are off to the pound. Three hours later, they are back with Boofus, some kind of a hound who runs in circles and pees all over the floor.
“We can dress him up for Halloween and take him trick or treating. I’ll wear an orange tent and go as the pumpkin carriage.” Valerie looks down and addresses her big belly. “What do you think of that, my little pumpkin seed?”
“Can I be Cinderella?” Sophie looks up from where she’s practicing her typing drills at the end of the dining room table. She’s stopped hiding in her room. More to the point, she’s been forced out of hiding. Her room is filling up with boxes of diapers and baby furniture in various stages of assembly.
“That works,” Valerie says.
“Then I’m Prince Charming.” David is home for the weekend. He sits at the table next to Sophie, watching her type. Six weeks at Stanford have transformed David. I’ve always suspected that he has a thing for Sophie, as the kids say. Discovering that his status as a foreign student makes him interesting to girls has boosted his confidence immensely.
“Someone else will have to be the wicked stepmother,” I say. “I’m going as the Fairy Godmother.”
We all laugh, and Boofus pees. Danny chooses this moment to walk into the melee from the garage, a Swedish-looking blonde on his arm.
“Hi everyone.” He keeps talking but it is the amazing looking goddess at his side who commands our attention. “This is Ursula. Ursula, this is everyone.”
It turns out that Ursula isn’t Swedish, she’s a German au pair who takes care of the Tanakas’ two-year-old, Simon. Ursula greets us in a heavy German accent and then joins Sophie’s little fan club. Like a kaleidoscope, we form patterns. The young ones fall to the center of the house and we tumble to the corners. I think Valerie and Andy are surprised when they find themselves in our corner.
Welcome to parenthood.