Tuesday, December 23, 2008
"A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow."
Mater and I were side by side in the bed last week; and as the light was turned out I asked if we might go shopping the following day.
There was a long silence. After about a minute, Mater stirred and asked what we had been discussing: she was coasting into slumber and had forgotten the thread of the question.
I repeated it.
"We might go to the forest," she eventually said, to my surprise, given that it was the middle of December and not the most suitable season to be venturing into wooded areas.
I soon gathered that Mater was hovering gently between layers of sleep and that her mind was elsewhere.
I asked, because I needed to know, "why would we go to the forest?"
After a pause in which I thought Mater had finally surrendered the curious conversation and fallen asleep, she answered with a definitive air of confidence that deftly implied my lack of knowledge about the benefits of trees: "well, it might be a very good forest."
I was struck by the happy air of the words, mumbled without a hint of the doubt or trouble that too often permeates the waking hours.
I concluded that indeed it might be a very good forest; and not another word was uttered about it.
Posted by Phyllis Hunt McGowan at 5:53 PM