House calls…

If we had keen vision and feeling for all ordinary human life,

it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat,

and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence…

— in Middlemarch by George Eliot

Yesterday,

in the chairs outside the room,

my daughters call “le bureau”,

where students can get some relative quiet,

to eat their lunch,

and complete school work,

I had a conversation with a five year old boy..

I’d met his mother before Christmas,

while we both sat knitting,

and waiting,

for our respective,

parent-teacher conferences,

so I had some context,

for this meeting with her oldest son,

which I had been looking forward to…

We talked about knitting first…

He told me,

My Mama is the best knitter in the world!!!

And I’m learning to do it too…

Santa gave me some sewing for Christmas…

There is everything I need to make a bird…

He moved his hands to describe what he found in his stocking,

as he talked out the story,

of his handwork project…

His small fingers outlining the cloth with the bird tracing,

the stuffing,

the pictures that show what you do,

and my very own needle!!!

The principal sat beside me,

as I listened,

to the excitement,

and the reveal…

The boy telling one story after another…

Detailing the glasses for seeing tornadoes,

he makes out of the special metals he finds,

in secret places…

He promised the principal,

I can make you a pair for your birthday!!!

I thought about how our public institutions,

could use a few hurricanes,

to whip them into a shape,

we could all live with…

The boy talked of,

after school activities,

where he makes sculptures,

out of fruit…

He modeled his knowledge,

and expertise,

with sections of mandarin orange,

and sandwich triangles,

propped up by a water bottle…

Illustrating a mile a minute…

I wondered how his father’s work,

as a set landscaper in the film industry,

and his mother’s,

important home making,

had been supported by their school experiences…

He told me his Papa was going to teach his Mama,

how to ride a motorcycle,

and how she was preparing herself,

for the learning,

by watching movies…

I thought some more,

about how the very school which matters most,

could be better complemented,

by a public education system,

which opens up,

instead of closing down…

I asked him if he knew a boy I’d run into,

at Famous Foods…

I said,

He’s in Kindergarten here too…

You might want to look for him,

out on the playground,

because I think you two might be from the same planet…

He smiled a thank you,

bunching his uneaten lunch,

into his two fists,

as he followed his teacher back to nap time,

and our mini doc came to a close…

I walked out to my car,

remembering what his mom had said to me,

back on the bench,

as we leaned against,

the wall of the gym,

with our busy fingers calming our minds,

I’m going to recommend that you look up the fisherman’s pullover…

I’m making it for my two-year old,

in the very same turquoise blue you’re using,

for what you’ve got going on there…

And like all of the other messages,

which present themselves,

in the thicket of things,

I gathered this shell up,

and lifted it to my ear,

for a six hundred acre song…