a pocket full of rye

Tonight a woman left a message on my answering machine to tell me that my parents' cruise ship had been struck by two large waves off the coast of Antarctica. I was told to remain calm and was assured that no one had been seriously hurt, however, it had become necessary to seek emergency shelter. The passengers would receive medical care for minor injuries, the ship would be repaired, and the cruise would continue as planned. I was invited to call the ship if I wanted further information or to speak to my parents directly.

I was concerned when I received this message, even a bit upset in spite of the promises that there had been no serious injuries. My mind began trying to decide what a serious injury was as opposed to a non-serious injury. Could they have broken bones? Deep cuts? I was worried.

Then it struck me that my parents aren't on a cruise. Their cruise ended about three weeks ago. They are now in Arizona, where no large waves ever cause injuries, serious or non.

I called my parents to make sure that they were in fact where I believed they were. (One time I received a postcard from New Zealand, and hadn't been aware they were out of the country.) This time I was right.

The woman who left the message on my machine read from a script that had obviously been prepared beforehand. At the end, she finished with a little blurb about how the safety and welfare of their passengers was of utmost importance and top priority. It would sure help them to live up to that mandate to know who their passengers actually were.

I'm glad my parents are okay.


*


I am getting a cold, or some kind of bug. It comes from nine year olds, without a doubt. My throat is starting to hurt. I'm glad the weekend is nearly here; I need some sleep. When I'm trying to sleep I can hear their thin piping voices invading my dreams.

"Austin's finger was on my desk."
"Quintin said shut up."
"Alyssa is practicing her mom's signature."
"Jayson dropped paper beside the garbage can instead of in it."
"Fayed keeps singing while I'm trying to work."
"Leanda used my pencil sharpener without asking first."
"Tristin doesn't have his shoes on."

I think their regular teacher allowed them to monitor each other's behaviour this way, perhaps even encouraged them to. Maybe he did this to make them a responsible community... or maybe because it's hard to catch all the little things that are going on all by yourself... Whatever his reason, I just don't think it was good enough. It makes me want to roll up in a ball and stick my fingers in my ears. I keep telling them to worry about their own behaviour and to mind their own business and they keep on looking at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am crazy. I'm certainly getting there.

*