In the sun-bright room, he stood at the window.
Cradling his favorite stuffed toy, he idly caressed its ears as he gazed out into the summer heat.
We were late—again
But it only mattered to me
He would be patient, he didn’t mind
He would not watch the clock, nor judge the promptness of our arrival
“He’s had a good day.” They had said,
A good day; so many meanings these days
If we tried to hurry he would sense it.
He would be upset, sensing tension newly arrived
I didn’t hurry, I took a deep breath and let it out.
He stood at the window, but knew we were there
His attention focused on the events of the world outside.
He stood and petted the fluffy rabbit in his arms
He made no sound, he did not move.
He knew we were there as we waited to say hello,
We don’t hug anymore, he and I, he doesn’t respond
He stood unmoving except for his hand, his attention total beyond the window
He stood looking out while I looked within,
It was our routine, this daily moment of our day
Much anticipated and guiltily dreaded,
I stepped to the window,
I touched his arm
“There is a buffalo in my tree.”
“What? A buffalo? Where?”
“There is a buffalo in my tree.”
“Where? Out there?”
“In my tree, right there.”
I look for the buffalo, it is not there
“They won’t feed it, it is starving.”
“I don’t see it. In that tree right there?”
“There is a buffalo in that tree. It is starving, they won’t feed it.”
He stroked the bunny with increased vigor
He stood at the window as his fingers began to dig into the soft flesh of his rabbit
“There is a buffalo in my tree. It is starving. Why don’t they feed it?”
I turned him and met his eyes,
Eyes that were vacant, without recognition, empty and lost
“There is a buffalo in my tree.”
Beside me she reached forward and touched his arm
“It’s okay Dad, I brought plenty. It’s in the car. I’ll feed it when we leave.”
And he smiled down at her.
He smiled
‘He’s had a good day they said.’
