Dad is headed to the airport to catch a bush plane Dad’s a lumberjack He operates a feller buncher which fells trees then bunches them into piles 3
He’s gone half the time living in logging camps but I’m used to missing him Mom reaches into her jeans pocket and drops a couple of coins in my hand Okay Cyrus go to the neighbors and get us some eggs You want me to go to a strange house and ask for their eggs 4
They keep hens silly Mom points to a painted square of wood nailed to a tree They spell funny I say The world is filled with all kinds of folks Mom says And that’s a good thing Rudy scrambles up a tree He’s eight I’m nine Scrambling up high is what Rudy does when he’s anxious He squats on countertops or sits cross legged on the piano or even on top of the fridge Today he might be anxious because we’ve left the only home we’ve ever known Or maybe because our new house looks like it’s about to collapse Or maybe he just doesn’t want Mom to ask him to get eggs A narrow driveway winds up to the neighbors house It’s so far I whine 5
That’s the country for you Mom says It’s a long way between neighbors Is that a good thing It can be I point to the blocky white shapes in the neighbors field Are those bulls Because I’m not going if Mom clears her throat Okay I’m going I shake my finger at the tree Don’t go exploring until I’m back I’ll be here Rudy promises his voice muffled by the wide summer leaves Halfway up the neighbors mile long driveway I trip on a pothole and hit the ground in a cloud of dust The blocky shapes trot over I hurry to my feet and brush myself off I offer the cows handfuls of grass but they turn up their noses which are like dog noses 6
