Page 1 of Autumn be His Wife
1
Dusty
My eyes crack open just two minutes shy of my alarm. Before I’m tempted to snooze the alarm, I force my body into a sitting position and groan. Must have slept wrong. Stretching, I get up and start my morning.
Clinging to my usual routine, one hot shower, and a pot full of freshly brewed coffee later, I’m ready to take on the day. But first, I need my company. My world.
Knocking on Eli’s door, I make my way inside to see that he has better sleep habits than his old man. Unfortunately, I have to be the one to reel him in and interrupt whatever peaceful dreams a kid his age could be having.
“Up and at ‘em.” Yawning the words, I flip on the light and squint right along him as we’re both blinded.
Takes effort not to crack a smile and tease him for the way his hair whips up into a cowlick as he shifts to sit up.
He’s got his mother’s soft brown hair, but he’s got my eyes. Dark brown and narrowed. Even now, they look exhausted and annoyed. Thankfully, he’s not in the mood to put up a fight. I’ll take a good morning any day.
Seeing as he’s been insisting that he can pick out his own outfits for the school day, I let him pick and choose what to wear, telling myself that I’ll only intervene if his choices are a little too over the top.
Makes me wonder if he’s already got himself a girlfriend in class he wants to impress. If he’s like his father, I’m sure he’d try whatever it takes to get her attention. Like a peacock showing off its feathers.
Fetching breakfast, I only spill a couple of drops of milk this time around as I rush to get Eli his favorite cereal. Before I hand him the spoon, I steal a bite to make sure it’s worthy. Tastes like too much sugar to consume before the sun lifts above the horizon, but I let him go crazy.
While he inhales each bite, I enjoy a cup of coffee with a splash of hazelnut creamer.
It’s the little things in life that keep the world spinning.
Checking the time on the stove, I’m the one who has to rush him along. Needing to head out so I can get him to school, I’m abandoning him long enough to shove my boots on. By the time I’ve hunted down both of our jackets, he’s shoving his own boots on, tucking in his pant legs like he wants to show them off.
Snorting, it takes all of my strength not to start shooting questions his way. Don’t want to embarrass him until after he’s introduced me to whoever it is.
Five days a week, we do the same song and dance. While he’s playing with other kids and learning a thing or two, I’m being passed around by the farmers and ranchers of Forest Grove.
My day is a map I’ve traced over a thousand times. I start at the clinic, the sharp, clean scent of antiseptic filling my lungs asI check on my overnight patients—a dog lacking energy to wag its tail, a tabby cat recovering from surgery, her purring a soft rumble against my stethoscope.
Then it’s out to the calls. I move from farm to ranch, my hands a familiar tool for calving season, for vaccinations, for the quiet, worried moments in a stable stall. There’s a rhythm to it all, a predictable cadence of hooves, heartbeats, and concerned nods as I try to reassure each owner that everything is fine. I like it. I need it. The structure is a steady fencepost in my life, something to lean on.
Once the eight hours are up, we’re back at home, ready to do it all over again.
Eli’s a quiet kid for the most part, once his classes suck him dry, so he doesn’t have much to say when it comes to filling me in on whatever happened afterwards, but he’s happy to try to pass off all of his homework to me.
His reward for practicing his multiple tables and writing out a few paragraphs on his latest reading is a low rumble from the skies above.
The dread and exhaustion that once filled his eyes instantly morphs into something else entirely. Looking my way, he’s already moving to his feet.
“Can I, Dad?Please.” His eyes flick over toward our front door, his body speaking more volumes than he needs to with words.
At only eight years old, I have to say, he’s growing too fast. In a couple more years, the little things won’t excite him anymore. Dreading the future, it’s best to enjoy the present.
We both get a kick out of rain. While I find the sound peaceful, he enjoys getting caked in mud. All I have to do is nod my head, and he’s gone, ready to throw on his rain boots and poncho.
Can’t deny him when he’s ready to start stomping around.
While Eli splashes around, I rock back and forth on the chair on the porch, happily staying dry where I’m at.
Outside of the distant rumbles, it’s peaceful. A nice calm before the rough patch comes in. The creaking of my chair is soothing, and I’m almost tempted to rest my eyes for a bit.
Thankfully, his giggles keep me awake, even more when he wants to show me how big his splashes are.
Only once lightning starts shooting along the blanket of dark clouds do I call it to come back inside.
