Weekending [A Calf Named Miracle]

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This weekend began on Wednesday
when Luke left for a five day ski trip with ten dudes
in the first few hours I wasn’t sure
if we’d make it
with the middle one
collecting transparent tape
trying to tape herself to his luggage, his leg
wanting to run down to ferry’s dock
splash in the water, swim behind
until Daddy saves me and brings me with him
and the youngest: No, Daddy do it!
at bedtime story, tuck-in and evening forehead kiss
the oldest: This is ridiculous.  Why does Dad go on a ski trip
without us?  We should always be together and, pretty much, always 
be skiing together.
She often says it best,
the oldest.
Friday morning’s meeting at island’s tip
all black coffee, strong business
until fiddles, flutes
40 musicians
shuffle in
wet from rain:
an Irish music festival.
The almost-tulips, pouring rain
dark of Evergreen
pockmarked salt sea
made this moment, this music
just. plain. awesome.
Friday night’s library find: H2O
Australian teenage mermaid drama
episodes past bedtime while the littlest sleeps
three nights in a row: perfect.
Truth be told, I’d totally watch this without kids
it’s a G-rated mermaid version of Freaks and Geeks and My So Called Life
Saturday morning’s long run
was a gift
with rain, wind on pause
past farmlands, sea views
same tunes, same girl pals
but a looming head cold
found me sipping a protein shake and seeing stars afterwards.
I found it best
to keep the girls busy
to keep the head cold busy
to keep the thoughts off Daddy
states south in a slight snowpack
so I unzipped the camera bag

and met an orphaned lamb,
watched 180 sheep mamas and daddies
dozens of bay-bee sheeps

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we met a cow named Miracle
since Mama hadn’t had babies for years
they day Mama  
was going to become hamburger
she gave us a calf,
so we named her Miracle.
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I just love the plain, the simple,
the to-the-point language of all things
beautiful, amazing
on a friend’s island valley farm.
I just love having a friend with a farm.
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Lucy May asked about the lamb’s parts
five children stood around a fireplace
heard from my friend the farmer
about a lamb scrotum and a lamb ball sack
and all the kids turned away except Lucy
who told me on the drive home she wanted
to be a farmer
to watch over those 180 sheep
to go back, look at a lamb seen still by a rock,
covered in bugs and check on the orphan
warming by the fire.
Later that evening, after
Scooter and Skate night
Lucy wanted to know
all the other animals in the whole wide world
that have scrotttyums.
I dodge the question,
will send her to the farm for weekends when she’s older.
Sunday’s power outage hurt
daylight savings’ much awaited morning espresso
three little ladies freezing around Barbies
with mama clutching the second tissue box of the day
dreaming of the biodiesel heater
we haven’t yet installed
so I pulled it together
in fistfulls of Cadbury Mini Eggs
and drove to the island’s tip:
donuts, sunshine and eggs benedict.
And so,
the weekend ended with the hubby
home on an early flight
giggleshorseyridestickleshugslaughsstoriesjokes
me upstairs,
now
playing Kindle skeeball
It’s a wonder I’ve been sick before
without this gadget, this game, this time in bed.
Yes,
it’s good to have
his voice, his laugh
his big totally-awesome heart
back home.
:::
How was your weekend?
Joining Amanda

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