"Can I step on those dad?"

The fall weather has been good to us so far, the crisp, clear days of sun and only a slight, breeze messing a laugh of leaves about. The nights have wasted their coupons of clouds long ago. Our moon has sat by the window the last few nights and softened the shadows about the front room. For some reason the lights of the boroughs far around the city seem so proud of their sleepy little neighborhoods. Last night, without a cloud in the sky - or so high I could not see them - the crackling stripes of lightening and the spatterings of hail in between the thunder and rain left the morning washed and ready for deserving folks. The last few days, my son has been so harassed by the flu, his poor little nose was forever running and chapped raw. He labored all night with the vapourizer whirring and turning our atmosphere into a heavy Vick's-Vaper fog. I haven't slept in days, listening and counting his horsed draws for comfort. I watched him at my feet, looking for signs of trouble, every half hour he would get up on one arm and say " dad, its stuck " then pound the heel of his wrist against his chest. Small, hot cloths left piled, started to fill a hamper, I wiped his face and kissed his forehead, keeping an eye on his temperature. I never thought for a moment that I would get his flu. Paper bag, after paper bag, filled with Kleenex and prayers. When I sneezed, there would be no flex to my ribs because of the fusion, my rib cage is like a solid shield of bone and my spine, now completly fused would have no gentle flex to it. The pain terrifies me, it does just when I cough or sneeze. I do with all my power try to stop a sneeze, holding my nose, rubbing my eyes or even trying to quickly blow my nose, but some had to make it through, with a sudden cry of "Oh! Jesus, please!" then defeated, a low groan was my forgiving as I lay back in my chair and and fight the next, the tears. My son would lift himself and grab for my knees, with both eyes half closed he would mumble "I feel so sorry for you" a line he is famous for - if he had some knowledge of someone who was sad or ill - kindly, he let you know it made him sad too. But today, we are finally getting over that horrible flu, and thank God it didn't hurt us too badly. We found ourselves this afternoon outside - my son, crunching threw the leaves, running from me as I zig-zagged behind his shrieks with my poppy red scooter, we heading to Safeway, actually we did not need to go anywhere, except to get out. It was a wonderful day, with my scooter full of Eggnog and raisins, and black and orange ju-jubes and jelly beans, a favorite of ours, properly colored for the season. We stopped at the volley ball dunes and remembered the net-less poles was a favorite stop of ours, the sand all groomed, but full of leaves strewn over the court and along the grass edge. "Can I step on those dad?" both our arms hanging over the chain-link fence. I thought for awhile, laughed "no!" then he looks at my grin and holds his hand across his mouth, eyes squinting and cheeks busting, chocking a laugh. He points a finger at me, accussing me of anything other than catching him, aware of his sillieness, then a break in our giddy moment, he says, with a sharp "don't!". I think in that moment he saw the joke was on him. "Can I step on those dad?" has played out all the rest of our day.