Early evening sun crept in under the curtains, pooling lazily on the tile floor. Children’s voices and quiet, after school playtime laughter drifted down the stairs. Legos mingled with Strawberry shortcake, adventures played out in the hands of childhood.
My feet up, the glow of the computer screen in front of me. The weight and warmth of the machine, plus the long stretch of this day lulled me into the eyes-half-open stillness just proceeding a much needed catnap. With it’s usual click-clunk, the AC comes on. A gentle, recycled air, breeze lifted a few stray hairs off the side of my face. Stillness. Listening. Sweet children. Long blink. Longer blink.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see it. Gray. Heart stops, muscles clench. No-please-no!
It has wiggled past the chair in the corner, behind the Thanksgiving decoration on the floor. It is gray. It is fast. It is behind something and I can’t see it now.
GET UP! I will myself. Off the couch. Oh, God! Why now? Matthew left an hour ago!
Half standing, half bent I glare, paralyzed now, in the decoration and the “it” behind the brown and gold basket.
MOVE YOUR FEET. Ok, but where, I internally argue. Do I look behind the basket and risk it running out? If it runs out do I catch it? Ew. With what? Smack it with a broom? Ew, EW ew!
If I walk (run like a madman) to the kitchen first to get the broom, what if it gets away? Then it will be running amuck in the house? EW. EW EW!
Why did Matthew have to be gone this night? This one night? He’s never gone over night, AND NOW THIS?? Seriously.
Friends flicker through my head…can I stay at your house tonight?
Another flicker…will all my Arab neighbors think I am extraordinarily crazy if I run out into our courtyard screaming for help?
Deep breath. There is no sense to my actions now. I lunge for the basket to shift it and scare it, at least I’ll get a good look at it.
Slowmotion takes over, I life my foot, point my toe, extend leg fur t h e r... as my foot swats the basket shifting it ever-so-slightly I fall back! Tripping over a chair, landing hard on my side, Ow! Scrambling, twisting to see it, what is it! WHERE is it?!
Nothing. No movement from it.
Furrow brow. Well, where THE HECK did it go.
Now seated, with an extended leg, I shift the basket again. There is something grey, pinched between the wall and the basket. The sun is nearly set now and the room is darker so I squint, and look.
With a cautious scoot forward, I step closer, move the basket with my hand.
It is gray.
It is stupid.
I roll my eyes and rub my bruising side, turn and get the broom and dustpan from the kitchen.
There is too much dust in this house. Dust bunnies. Big as mice, rats.
Sweep it, the dust, into the pan. Throw the dust out. Sigh.
Sweet voices float down the stairs. She’s laughing at his ideas and he laughs back.
They will come down soon, wanting food.
I open the fridge and take out something for dinner.
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