Dear Reese,
This evening, you take one of MorMor’s rainbow-threaded napkins, throw it over her bare feet, and pick it up again. Then put it on her feet. Then take it back. It’s some sort of game, MorMor guesses, but we don’t know what’s happening in your head.
Then you start pushing the napkin into the colored kids' carpet. Forcefully. MorMor thinks maybe you are trying to make it go into the rug. We could chalk it up to you learning the world, but I wonder if all the blank pages you’re trying to fill allow you to see things we don’t. Interdimensional spaces or just connections of colors and objects we’ve missed.
I cannot wait for you to tell me everything.
Love,
Mama
The Castle in the Pond, Part 17
You sing as you travel down the river until the sun sets. You consider stopping and finding a safe place to rest for the night, but decide to keep pushing forward. The Fierce Croc agrees, and your now very loyal duck companion (who wouldn’t have minded a rest) stays by your side.
The growing darkness is ominous as you ride on the back of The Fierce Croc. Then (by the fate of a flip of a turtle toy) you hear a swooping of wings and a hoot as an owl skims low over the water. They’re on a nighttime hunt, and you look like prey!
The Fierce Croc offers to fight off the owl, but instead, you tell him to swim underwater, and you ride low on his back, ducking under for long periods so you can hold your breath and stay out of sight. After the journey you’ve had, you don’t want to attract more attention than necessary with a fight.
You hold your breath for as long as you can, and when you come up for air you see that the owl is gone.
And finally, you recognize the landscape as you approach the pond. You see the wrecked beaver dam . . . and on top of the debris, removed from his spot in the center of the pond, is the black swan waiting for you.
To be continued.