Triptych

Sunday Morning
I am sitting in a Japanese restaurant at the UB campus. I'm in a funny shaped red plastic chair, all alone except for the chef and the cashier. There is a lake no more than 20 feet outside the window, and a rabbit is nosing in and out of a bush in front of me. I decided not to get sushi, but I'm eating rice, egg, and a teriyaki beef. It looks like it might rain soon.

I played a rehearsal at 10 AM of horrible contemporary music. There was no tune, and my part was an assortment of odd and angry sounding notes that added nothing but an ever-decreasing shock to the already confused listener. Once rehearsal was over I packed my trumpets away and walked down to the student union looking for something to eat. Being a Sunday morning and mid-June, everything was closed except this one Japanese restaurant. It's the first time I've missed church since January. I think there might be a Korean service in one of the classrooms above me, but I choose to pick at my rice and read my book. The book is called The End of Poverty, and its about world peace and aid to third world countries.

I realize I've become a hippie.

Monday Evening
J is lying on the couch and hardly conscious. It was a typical day with James, which means that he was sweet and angelic for five minute intervals and then either in a raging tantrum or asking incessant questions to which he already knew the answer. A half an hour ago we loaded the dishwasher to the brim and abandoned the stack of dishes that was still left in the sink. We packed away the macaroni and cheese that James refused to eat, and then set to work on picking up the toys that he'd scattered all over the house. There are blocks under the couch, toy cars in the closet, and two stuffed animals on the floor. I take them into his room and put them in his bed.

Now she lying on the couch and trying to summon the energy for a conversation with me. I'm stretched out on the floor below her with my head resting on one arm and the other arm draped over one of her long bare legs. The sun is starting to go down, and one of us should get up to close the blinds. She mentions how nice it would be to have a glass of wine tonight. We'll know the gender of the new baby on Friday.

Sunday Evening
James is climbing trees. I hold him under his arms and he puts his feet against the tree trunk and walks up until I set him up in the branches. Steven and George are lying in the grass below, along with a plastic bin full of rocks. He pushed the box of rocks all the way up the courtyard and all the way back, stopping every 20 feet or so to throw in another rock and then asking me to carry it because it is too heavy.

He grins as he perches up in the tree and points to a high branch. "Daddy, I'ma climb waaay high up there!" I smile back and tell him to go ahead. He giggles and then points to another branch. "Daddy, I'ma climb waaay high up there." I tell him to go ahead again and he asks how Steven is doing. Steven is doing fine. He tells me that he's going to jump out of the tree and that I'll catch him.

"You can jump out of the tree and Daddy will catch you, but you need to tell me when you jump."

Without warning he hurtles out of the tree and I catch him awkwardly against my side. He smiles up again and says: "Daddy, I jumped!"