6. Imagine
Imagine if this were my garden.
Actually, it is my garden.
Now imagine Charlie and me having a picnic here, maybe filling up the paddling pool, or playing a spaceship game.
And all the time the dog next door is growling.
Every time we go into the garden, the dog next door is there - right at the fence - and the growling starts low then it rises and rises into a fierce, frantic bark, then descends again into a low, ferocious growl that goes on and on, and sometimes the anger gets too much for the dog and he throws himself against the fence.
We glance at each other, Charlie and I, when that happens — the loud thud — then we turn back to our game.
Sometimes we call out. ‘It’s okay! We live here! You remember us?’ But that only makes it worse. So mostly we pretend nothing’s happening. We offer one another imaginary cups of tea, and we repair space ships, or water the garden, and the growling and the thudding go on.
Now and then we look up at the fence. The state of the fence.
Actually, it is my garden.
Now imagine Charlie and me having a picnic here, maybe filling up the paddling pool, or playing a spaceship game.
And all the time the dog next door is growling.
Every time we go into the garden, the dog next door is there - right at the fence - and the growling starts low then it rises and rises into a fierce, frantic bark, then descends again into a low, ferocious growl that goes on and on, and sometimes the anger gets too much for the dog and he throws himself against the fence.
We glance at each other, Charlie and I, when that happens — the loud thud — then we turn back to our game.
Sometimes we call out. ‘It’s okay! We live here! You remember us?’ But that only makes it worse. So mostly we pretend nothing’s happening. We offer one another imaginary cups of tea, and we repair space ships, or water the garden, and the growling and the thudding go on.
Now and then we look up at the fence. The state of the fence.
4 Comments:
I'm sad for the dog and sad for you. He sounds distressed and you can't get peace and quiet in your own garden :(
I want to have a picnic with you and Charlie in your beautiful white-flowered garden. I'll fix your fence for you!
- OLB xo
I think I know that bird. or dog, or whatever. Like tired old pirates, most women writers have their birds. It's the pirate's birds that egg them on, you know. That's why they're so theatrical about the evil stuff they do, but I believe you can get rid of it because you've gotten rid before! I thought you didn't have a bird because you were lucky, but I guess i should have known...what "lucky" really means down there...look You are serious business, Jaclyn Moriarty. i don't know if you really know...it.
but he is so relentless. I don't think anyone can hold off the bird forever. You might keep finding new ways to trick and distract and neutralize him a little longer, and watching you do these tricks and knowing you really are smarter and more real than that little flying rat, this is what's so good for everyone. Once he finally gets you, and he will, we'll still have all the books you wrote before he devoured you. He can't take them away from us. so...um....so that's good for us!
(this is how I was taught to encourage Aussies: whatever they're trying to do, tell them it's impossible. Then, they do it. I don't see how this can work but I've got it from two authorities that it does.
Is it working? please please i hope it's working.)
Yeah, TopCat, sometimes I think the dog just wants to join in with the tea party. He just doesn't know how to ask. OLB, please join us for a picnic and bring your tools. And Anonymous, good grief. The bird is not going to devour me. Nice link though - between dog and bird - but you're getting ahead of me there.
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