Well Rounded Sunrise

Dawn had erupted in another glorious show in the eastern sky.  The amber, gold and cerise sunrise was just beginning to fade and melt into the clear azure blue of morning when Mom rolled down the hall, zipped through living room and across the dining room before coming to a stop in the Arizona Room doorway.

sunrise

Bill and I glanced away from the morning news and greeted her with a wave and a “Good morning.”

“Hi,” she responded, and then sat, staring across the room at me.

“How are you today?” I asked, figuring she was waiting for me to contribute more.

“Same,” came her standard response.

Apparently, I successfully fulfilled my conversation quota, because she turned abruptly and wheeled away.  I heard her stop in front of the dining room window where, I assumed, she would peruse the world outside for 30 seconds before making her way over to her loveseat and her breakfast.  I was wrong.

She rolled back to the Arizona Room and actually ventured inside the doorway.

“What’s up?” I inquired, once again turning away from the TV.

“Did you see the sun this morning?”

“Yes, I did.  It was pretty spectacular.”

“It was round at the ends and then it turned the other way,” she commented with a knowing nod.  “Pretty interesting, huh.”

“The sun was round at the ends?” I asked.  “It’s round all the time, Mom, it’s the sun.  I don’t understand what ‘ends’ you’re talking about.”

“No, not the sun, the sky,” she replied.  “The sky was round at the ends and then it turned.”

“Turned?”

“Yes, turned.  Toward the other way.”

“Other way?  What other way?”

“Away from the round part.  Geesh, all you have to do is look out the window and see.  It’s clear as the hand on my face.”

I looked over at Bill sitting on the other end of the couch, hoping he could bail me out.  Unfortunately, he was too busy pretending to blow his nose into a tissue while laughing uncontrollably.

“Okay, then,” I said.  “I guess I’ll have to take another look.”

“Don’t bother,” she answered, as she backed out of the room.  “The sun’s already up and the sky part’s gone.”

“Alrighty then,” I shouted after her.  “Maybe I’ll catch it tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” she called out as she motored away.  “Or maybe there won’t be any rounding tomorrow.  Maybe it’s a once at a time kind of thing.”

“Or maybe it’ll be squaring,” Bill chuckled.  “Or rectangling.  Or triangling.”

“Maybe!” she exclaimed from the living room.



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