Tin roof
The corrugated tin roof was warm from the midday sun and creaked under Filly’s weight as she shifted closer to the edge, her feet crossed underneath her thighs. She looked at the piece of sour grass she held in her right hand and stuck it back in her mouth to chew. She had climbed up on the roof with her daughter’s kid, nicknamed Tater, so they could relax and catch up on the events of the world.
Tater’s long scraggly legs were splayed out on the roof next to Filly and she chewed on sour grass as well, the fluffy grass ends tickling her arm as it bounced up and down with each chew. Tater giggled with the silliness of it.
Tater liked to talk to Filly and even though she was only seven years old, she had a surprisingly perceptive view of things that was calm, rational and resilient.
Tater had not wanted Filly to leave, when Filly had told her the potential plan, as the two of them were often buddies and partners in projects, chores, and activities. Filly listened carefully to what Tater wanted, much more than most grown ups did, because she saw the value added in collaborating with such a sharp and un-jaded mindset.
Sitting up high, with a commanding view of the tall grasses waving in the wind, and centuries old oaks bending down to the ground, the two girls felt invincible and just sitting, like they were doing on the roof, was something both of them liked to do.
They had discovered this out of the way abandoned barn type building, with a tree beside it, making it a perfect tree-house type of spot.
Tater had not stopped talking and was explaining what her “dream house” would be, and how it needed to have enough rooms for EVERYONE in both of their families.
She also wanted a room where she could imagine things that she wanted to have, and they would appear and finally she described a room that needed to be full of animals of every type.
Filly listened to all her ideas, interested and not speaking, and chewing on the stringy but satisfying grass. She had brought the cereal cards in her stretchy pockets to discuss with Tater, yet chose to keep that topic for later…plus she had not looked closely at them as of yet.
Also, Filly’s sister had sent her an email earlier in the day, and while listening to that link Filly had suddenly had a light house idea that the cards had nothing to do with cereal boxes or serial anything. She realized that the coupons given her had to go to a fulfillment center. Then they were “redeemed”. She thought clearly, without even looking, that the cards given to her by the strong red haired man the day before, were all about “redemption” and for that she was really grateful.
Redemption from worry, redemption from fear, redemption from anger or doubt or weakness. Redemption from all of these was worth more than the five dollars he joked about. Filly wanted to share this idea of redemption with Tater but she decided listening to Tater was much more pleasant and was serving a greater purpose than anything she could teach Tater herself at that exact moment.
Tater with her dimple on her cheek and her lively bob of brown hair that gleamed in the sun like gold was animated and expressive. Her new big gapped front teeth that were just coming in were a happy part of her big smile and her huge brown eyes were interested and alert. Tater liked video games and baby dolls, and kick boxing and dancing ballet and pop tarts and chicken. Tater was an anathema.
Tater was too young to have been required to make any life altering decisions. But that day would come soon enough. With any discussion, Filly wanted to try to provide Tater with a multitude of options and opinions so that making a decision making was a learning process. Food and cooking was discussed and participated in as was cycling or running or painting or drawing. They were all part of the education process that Filly liked to facilitate whenever she was around.
Filly’s phone rang.
“Girl you need to turn that thang off” Tater said, irritated by the interruption to her happy diatribe about her dream house. Filly did not answer the phone but looked and saw that there was a message she had not seen before. School apparently had a puzzle for her to solve. She had to approach the problem from a multitude of methodologies and find a way to connect the dots.
She typed in a response that “gonna get on it within the hour” and noted that the picture sent with the text was from the man who gave her the cards and he signed his name “Cam:”.
“Sounds good Cam” she wrote back. Filly wondered if Tater could ”see things” and “connect the dots” as easily as she could. She had been able to do these things since she was Taters tender age, and Tater was related soooo anything was possible.
But at the same time, knowing about things that most people did not know about could be a burden for someone who was very young. Filly had a happy childhood and it had been protected and sectioned off from the rest of the world because of two very protective parents, for which she was very grateful. Optimism was the view she grew up with. Glass half full, or so full it was spilling over. Trust in the good and all that…and she maintained that life view…. even when faced with difficult puzzles or communications.
She smiled when she discovered that her decision from the day before was hailed. Literally it hailed all over the state of Texas. She wondered if her response was considered to be a Hail Mary as well. What she had seen, that caused her to take such dramatic action, for some, would have been a fearful thing. But her sister’s email had dealt with that and helped dismiss it.
“Gotta go Tater” Filly said. She moved towards the edge of the roof and slid towards the tree grabbing Taters hand as she went, to help her down. They scrambled down reluctantly, regretting having to leave the warm perch. They had ridden their bikes to get to the spot, and Filly climbed on her “one speed” pink beach cruiser and Tater hopped on her rickety goodwill cast off bike that never seemed to be working right.
“Next bit of money I get, I am gonna get her a different bike” thought Filly shaking her head and the annoyingly decrepit bike. They both pedaled off together and split directions where the path made a Y.
“BYEEEE FILLY” yelled Tater, “LOOOVEE YOUUUU” and Filly stopped, waved and watched Tater speed off, her blue sequined helmet glittering.
She then got back on her own bike, staying on the well worn dusty dirt trail that led by the creek and through the park and up to the back streets that led into her part of town.
She pulled her bike into the garage which she had left open. All her weights and her bench and pull-up bar were in the sun because of the light angling in at this time of day. They were hot to the touch, so she decided she would wait until later to do that part of her workout.
She weaved her way through the garage underneath the walk through canopy into the back door and through the kitchen. Her wood floors gleamed and the fridge still held half of a chicken wrap from two days ago. She wondered if it would still be good and decided it would be and put it on the table along side of her computer, cold, which was ok. She set her phone on the table as well and started working on the puzzle. But it was more than one puzzle, it was like an entire conversation.