Go for it!

MOTHER GOOSE

 

Using the field glasses my loving wife, Gloria, gave me for no special reason, I scan the lake behind our condo apartment. 'Yeow!, Gloria, quick come here. You have to see her. It's like she's on our terrace!'
She rushes to me shouting 'Who? Who?' I say nothing, just hand her the binoculars and point, thataway. Gloria is not often awkward but is this time. She almost drops my glasses on the concrete floor.  I show her, 'Hold them this way, look over to the left. What do you see?' I do love her but she isn't always too quick. Of course she saw nothing, the glasses were backwards. My nasty tone infuriates her. That makes us about even. What does she finally see? Scum, scum on the water!

 

I try again. 'Don't you see that big white goose?' 'Oh, that little thing. It looks like a duck to me.' 'Gloria, look at her and all her little babies floating behind her? Aren't they precious? I can't decide if the mama is a swan or a goose. Which do you think?' She makes no quick judgement since she claims she hasn't seen a swan since we went down the Po in Italy.

 

The day is warming. It's red rays tempt me to go down and just walk around the lake, really relax. 'Want to go with me, Gloria? We can get a good close look at the family.' Her reply is just about what I expect. 'Go yourself. If it's a goose, catch I, wring its neck and we can eat for a week.' Nausea riles up from my gut. Pictures of those little babies not able to climb the small hill to get on land, worry me until the mama gets behind each, one at a time, slowly, carefully, and prods it up on the bank. It is , oh my lord, I think 'Glorious' and if the action is anything like my Gloria, there will be a black moon tonight.

 

I go back to our apartment, watch for a single second, my wife putting   a fresh coat of very red polish on her fingernails. They look like they are bleeding. Sounds of laughter come in thru the patio door. My binoculars are still around my neck so I go to look over the railings and see a sight to behold. 'Gloria, Gloria, come quick. You have to see what's happening.' To who?To who? Mother Goose?' I do not dare say 'to whom.' I watch and I smile, see the French couple who live just two apartments over from ours, drinking, smiling, naked as jay birds.

 

Gloria has finished her red fingernails and has done her toenails too. Between each toe she has put small tufts of cotton. 'See you, later, Gloria, I'm going down to watch the swan/goose.' Instead, I go downstairs and then up the elevator just two buildings away.