I woke up at 6 a.m this morning, and picked up the child, who stirred herself awake from sleep. A night spent in the company of a cool home and child watching. It’s heart warming to sit on the couch so early in the morning, before the sun spread itself across the neighborhood. Babies are so crisp in the morning. “Sue …..C” I play out the sounds with my mouth. She watches intently with a big grin. “Sssssssss Seeeeeeeee” she giggles.
“Woot Woot” I grin to myself, she gets it.
I park my car in Tel Aviv, and walk a few blocks to my home. I forgot people are up this early. An elderly woman walks out of her apartment. Her dyed, ginger hair- combed tightly into a pony tail. Waves of thin fabric follow her and she picks a flower from the bush. I am parallel to her, across the street and she doesn’t notice me. She smells the flower and traces it with her fingertips.
My dad was always the person that made assumptions about everything. If he was walking with me he’d comment with something cheeky: “she’s meeting her dead husbands best friend, who she has been seeing for coffee every Monday morning for 15 years.” or “She looks like she’s wearing mom’s tablecloth”. Which would always constitute an eye roll from me.
Then he would chuckle and fart and blame it on me.
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