i move my pi11ow to the foot of grandma`s bed and angle my face toward the open window.i flip the pillow, hunting for the cooler side.
grandma sees me thrashing.“if you`11 just watch for the breeze,”she says,“you`11 cool off and fall asleep.”
she cranks up the venetian blinds.i stare at the filmy white curtain, willing it to flutter.
lying stil1, waiting, i suddenly notice the life outside the window. the bug chorus shouts“ajooga!ajooga!”neighbors, porch-sitting late, speak in hazy words with sanded edges that soothe me.
“keep watching for the breeze,”grandma says softly,and i“uhliuh”in reply. june bugs ping the screen. three blocks away the frisco train
rumbles across roosevelt avenue.
i catch the scent of fresh grass clippings. then i hear something i can`t decode--perhaps a tree branch raking asphalt shingles on the store roof
next door.
sleepy-eye now,i focus on the curtain.it flutters …
“mom,did y0u hear that?”my seven-year-o1d bluts.“i think it was an owl family.”
“probably” i tell him.“just keep listening…”
without the droning air condition,the house is oddly peaceful,and the unfilter night noises seem close enough to touch.
i hope i`m awake tonight when the first breeze sneaks in.