Lesson 629: Lacuna

It was almost as if we were frozen in time
here at the Lamp Post this week.



Thankfully,
 the worst of the unpredictable weather
arrived on the weekend,
so we didn't have to delay or miss school.

Sometimes you have to reroute your day
when the weather has other plans for you.



We were able to travel just far enough
for Sam to win us some freebies while bowling.



We could walk to the neighbors
to see our favorite little girls
play with a dollhouse.

I did a little internet surfing because I kept my power,

while my parents who live next door

lost their electricity for six hours last Saturday.

They bundled up.

Grandpa snored.

Grandma read.

Eloise thought--

better them than me.

This is what I found on my lazy day couch surfing--

I think everyone should chip in

and buy me this for my birthday.

It's a Tasha Tudor advent calendar.

The little doors really open

into the hollows of that big tree.

It sold for $13,500 in 2007,
so the price has probably gone up a tad bit.
You might have to do a little dickering to get it.

If that was unavailable,
I'd take this next one, too.

Just smush in the nose of that dog a little,
and paint a white stripe down the middle of its
head with some white out--
you'd have Hazel,
my three children,
a feral cat,
and my nativity set,
minus the Joseph in the pink robe.

There is always an unpredictability
of winters in Erie.
Natives learn to roll with the weather
 and find excitement in the constant changes.

Life threw at us something
none of us could predict this week.
We lost a friend.
Our friend Mike,
unexpectedly died at work last Monday,
leaving all of us at the Lamp Post
and the community of North East in a state
of shocked sadness.

His death left a gap in our stories,
a space that would have been filled with
good times,
and games,
and leagues,
and laughter.

There is a hole in our manuscripts,
a space that feels empty and cavernous.
What remains is a void
 that can only be filled
with the memories we shared.

To those grieving with us,
here is a piece of good advice.

Mike,
I promise to be more fun.

You will be missed.
Eloise and family