a november night

she sat on the bottom of her rickety wooden stairs and watched the last trails of light in the moody sky.  "blustery," she thought to herself and smiled.  leaves were spinning and leaping on the wings of wind.  one sailed past her ear and scudded into the stairs behind her.  another stopped abruptly at her feet but seemed to pulse like a beating heart on the cement.  

they walked what she had named the 'hutchinson loop' because it passed the hutchinson's flat roofed house.  no benches or fences to rest on--her longest route of continuous walking yet.  her mom in a cute knitted turquoise tam, jacket, probably gloves, was agog at her breezy bare arm flouting of the weather.  as they rounded back towards the park and home the noted the dark clouds above the clear sky in the west.  "they look like waves," remarked laura, picturing japanese sea art with waves upon waves.

19 minutes.  that's how long their walk took.  she wished it was 20 but close enough.

back inside her arms tingled with exhilaration but her hands were warm.  her dad was enthusing over electric cars and planes in national geographic.  "this is the best national geographic magazine ever!" he said in wonder.  her mom did the dishes, her dad dropped his blood sugar monitor for the 100th time, sending parts skittering in different directions.

they played dice.  she was a self-proclaimed luck sack but lost the second game to her mom.

before she went up to her own place she lay on her belly under the table with the flashlight and found the backing way under the bookshelf, and felt capable.

now tucked in bed listening to her 'soothe' playlist she hears fireworks going off in the neighbourhood. soon she will sleep.