The
whale
that now
resides in
the living room was
flung through the picture window when
a great big wave shattered it, depositing her and
the twins inside the house. It is my good fortune that the ground floor has room for all. It
is her good fortune to have twins. They like it here. A little shelter for quiet times when they come back from exploring their new neighborhood.
I have to tell you the neighbors could never have put up the whole family for an overnight much less forever. What is forever? It's hard to know these days. My forever is not the whale's forever. My forever
becomes shorter as the water rises. I mean I can exist on the second floor for a long time. It will be years, probably, before I have to move up to the third floor. The row boat is tied to the balcony ready for a journey across town to get groceries. Sometimes I row over to a friend's house for tea.
The whales feed themselves, and once in a while they toss a too-small-for-them-to-eat-fish upstairs in lieu of rent. I enjoy watching her teach the babies to use their blow spouts. Once in a while I scratch her barnacles. Ours is a symbiotic relationship. I have not
been able to convince her to let me ride on her back, although as the twins grow, I may be able to train one of them. It would be so
much easier than rowing to whatever destination I desire. I'm not getting any younger and arthritis is setting in.
Some tea and crumpets anyone?
The tea is made from
kelp, a bit
salty
but,
well?
