The oldest boy’s laugh infects his boy cousins, and they want to be like him. The girl walks on the beach, wearing solitude like a windblown cape, until she races back to the sand castle. The young historian quizzes the grandfather about great presidents. The youngest rests like a dragonfly against the mother’s waist before he flies back to the game.
On the floor, one knee up, hands darting, the four cousins sort baseball cards. They lean into the piano, leap into the pool, follow a shifting hierarchy.
They run, sweat, read, cry, fall asleep. Three generations eat roast chicken, corn and sliced tomatoes out in the summer evening, the moon rising hazy gold in the humid night. The children, fueled by food, hurl themselves into the pool for the last swim. The adults sip wine and watch the future.
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This is just so beautiful, so evocative, it is completely pleasurable to read. And impossible not to read at least two or three times over. I love 'rests like a dragonfly,' and I love the image of the 3 generations eating roast chicken and corn and tomatoes outside. Thanks for this one!
ReplyDeleteLiz, this truly is beautiful and poetic. I love it!
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