Keep Your Eyes Closed...(an excerpt)

"Anything grows here," she used to say.  "It's subtropical.  Close your eyes Hazel and listen to the sounds around us."

It was a game we played often.  Close our eyes and listen to the rumbling traffic, the harsh clangs, the barking dogs. 

"Now imagine those are night bats whizzing past.  That isn't a dog barking, it's a coyote, looking for its pack.  Keep your eyes closed.  That's it, now come here and smell this. "  She had readied the crushed boughs of a hemlock, or scavenged a piece of bark from an oak in the park two blocks away. "You see?  We are in the forest now - the wild noises are grumpy animals, stirred too early from their winter hibernation.  Those honks are giant geese, yelling to protect their babies.  Now come here, hold my hand, smell this."

Her rooftop tomatoes were the best I had ever tasted.  They grew next to the basil.  She was right.  Anything grows here. 

"We're in Italy now, walking along the Amalfi Coast.  You might think those are car engines, but really it's the ocean crashing against cliffs." 

I squeezed her hand with my own, painting landscapes behind my eyes.  "This one, now this one is special."  She put something in my free hand.  "There you are, do you feel it?  We are on the moon now Hazel.  This is a glowing moonstone, it will guide us on our next adventure, we'll need it because do you know where we are going?  Yes, we are coming down from outer space!  That's right, down down down, keep your eyes closed.  Ah ha!  We have landed.  Come here." 

She put my hands on the steering wheel she had mounted to the side of one of the legs of the water tower.  This was always my favorite part.

"We're here Hazel!  Steer us ahead.  Do you feel the ocean wind blowing in your hair?  The stars are so bright above you now and the moonstone is glowing.  Onward!  We're sailing to Africa!  Or maybe to France.  Or shall we go to India?  What do you think Hazel?" 

It's always when I opened my eyes.  I didn't know what those other places looked like, but I knew this one and I had to make sure we were still here. 

The buildings reach up to the sky like magic wands all casting their spells to the moon at the same time.  The bridges across the river, those are the real ships - they never move, but stay frozen in the giant harbor with ants crawling along their backs bringing things from one island to the next.  It all twinkles like the stars I cannot see very well.  A pigeon flies overhead and I try to pretend it's a bat or an eagle, but I know it's a pigeon and I like knowing that.  The familiar smell of salt and garbage, the reliable screeches, the people everywhere, even though my mother pretends we are the only ones entire world.  But there are people everywhere - people in office chairs, people worrying about their families, people having affairs, people cleaning, cooking, hating themselves, kissing their children, making love, making money, breathing - everybody breathing at the same time.