On the Tip of My Tongue

Photo: Vancouver Feb/2019
Looks like trees in Regina this morning!

On the Tip of My Tongue

Clara knew it was April, but her little brother had raced into her bedroom shouting “It’s snowing!!” Barely time to open her eyes, she had just surfaced from a dream of the garden she had planned. It wouldn’t be a big one though. Her father had said so. He’d have the big one and she just had a little corner. But the dream was so beautiful. Mostly flowers, but fat watermelons grew at one end of her huge garden. Now, if there was snow again, she wouldn’t be able to get started. “Don’t sound so excited.  Is there enough to make a snowman?” Robbie was pulling off her covers. “I don’t know but I’ll get outside and find out!” 

Already dressed, he raced out of Clara’s room, thundered down the stairs and out the kitchen door. Their mother called after him, knew he was excited about the snow. “Get in here and eat your breakfast, Robbie.” Silence. She looked out the window by the back door. He was standing still, unusual for this son who always raced from one place to the other. His head tipped back, she guessed what he was doing. Catching snow flakes on his tongue, the tiny bite of cold sweet and welcome. She shook her head. “I remember doing that.” She turned the stove off, grabbed her jacket and went outside. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she tipped her head back and stuck her tongue out to feel the tiny cold of the melting flakes. In her mind she said “I don’t even care if the neighbours are looking. This is one memory I want to experience again.”

“The purpose of life is to live it; to taste experience to the utmost,

 to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”

~ Eleanor Roosevelt