Westward

Last night we sang our last goodnight nursery rhymes to Mackenna and drove rain-black highways from Akron to Medina. 

“Papa be right back?” asked Mackenna.

“Papa will be back,” I answered.

“Papa be right back?” she asked again.  Her big eyes fixed on me.

“Papa will be back,” I repeated.

Inside me, I felt yesterdays melting into tomorrows.  I felt stuffed animals nudging at my feet. 

This morning we are heading across the into-rain and after-rain Midwest.  We will tree our way, traffic our way, dark sky our way, and map our way west.  Back to the open lands.  Back to Mountains holding snow. Back to skies where clouds have room to tumble across.

On one hand: Mackenna.

On the other: the West, my home on this Earth.

This is not a perfect balance.

--Mitchell Hegman

Photographs from Mackenna’s Second Birthday Bash

Mackenna turned two yesterday!

--Mitchell Hegman

Hedgy and the Birthday Song

Hedgy the hedgehog could not remember any of the days before Princess Mackenna was born.  But, to be fair, Hedgy seldom remembered where his nose was.  And he sometimes said “hello” when he should say “goodbye.”  And sometimes he said “hello” and “goodbye” at once, just to be sure.

Hedgy sat all day and all night just outside the door of Kindly Castle.  In the early morning, small birds bounced in the grass all around Hedgy.  Yellow flowers grew tall in flower beds beside him.  Ducks sometimes waddled by, quacking. And, once, a momma deer left her baby all day right there in the flowers beside him.

But today, Hedgy remembered something.

He remembered his nose.

It was right there on his face.  Just below his eyes and just above his mouth.  He could not see his nose—not even if he crossed his eyes hard and looked down.  But he knew it was there because Princess Mackenna touched his nose and reminded him, “This is your nose,” each time she came and went from Kindly Castle.

Sometimes, Princess Mackenna played the head, shoulders, knees, and toes game with Hedgy.  She would touch his head, and then his shoulder, and then his knee, and then his toes, and say: “This is your head.  These are your shoulders.  These are your knees.  And these are your toes.”

And when she finished she always touched his nose and said “This is your nose.”

Today, Hedgy also remembered something special.  Today was Princess Mackenna’s birthday.

Hedgy had even made up a birthday song for Princess Mackenna.  The words to the song went like this: “Hello, hello.  Happy birthday Mackenna.  Happy birthday, to you!  Hello, hello.”

So, when Princess Mackenna opened the door and came outside from Kindly Castle, Hedgy got very excited and tried to sing his song.  “Hello or goodbye.  This is my birthday nose.  Happy birthday to you!”

Princess Mackenna touched Hedgy’s nose.  “Thank you,” she said.  “What a lovely birthday song.”

“But I sang it wrong,” Hedgy admitted.

“Happy birthday is never wrong,” said Princess Mackenna.  “And I am no longer one.  I am two.”

“Hello.  This is my happy birthday nose,” said Hedgy.  Happy birthday nose, to you!”

--Mitchell Hegman

One Day from Two

Apparently, nobody told Princess Mackenna she should be speaking in two or three word sentences at this point.  This point, specifically, for those of you not completely in the loop, is one day from her second birthday.

And about the two and three word sentence thing.

Princess Mackenna is speaking in full paragraphs.

She whizzed right through the two and three word sentences some time ago.  She sometimes tells elaborate stories.  Mind you, she often speaks so fast, it’s a bit hard to keep up.

I have been spending the last few days with Princess Mackenna.  We have been out walking among the mommy and daddy trees.  We have been putting stickers in books.  We smell flowers and blow on bugs.  We call Gentle, the dog, a “good boy.”  We feed the fish and ducks in the pond.  We play in the park.  We sing nursery rhymes.  Most importantly, we wave furiously and say “hi” to everyone we meet.

--Mitchell Hegman

About Your Skin

It’s important to get comfortable in your own skin while you are young.  As you get older—either by form expansion or sagging—you get a lot more of it.

--Mitchell Hegman

A Few Observations

I have been provided an opportunity to make a few observations.  Or, in more practical thinking, you might say I’m stuck in the Minneapolis Airport on a two-hour layover. 

Here are a few observations:

1. Tall, gawky men dragging along carry-ons by the telescoping handles are at least forty percent gawkier than normal.  And that’s an awful lot of gawky.

2. Some of the restrooms in concourse F also serve as “severe weather shelters.”  I am assuming a persistent blizzard does not qualify as a reason for everyone to muster there.  Finally, if I were an architect, I would, as a faithful Montanan, make the bars in each concourse also serve as severe weather shelters—not the bathrooms.

3. The key for my 2004 truck works well for stabbing open shrink-wrapped cheese snacks.  The fob for the new car is of no help at all.

4. It is possible for a girl of twenty-something to look compellingly similar to your male neighbor of eighty-something.

5. As you “people watch” in an airport and begin sorting people into “types,” it’s important to recognize that someone is doing the same to you. 

--Mitchell Hegman

Our Just Reward

I am about to openly steal something from my sister, Debbie.

I am stealing a line from her.  Or, more aptly, a line of thought.  She responded to a photograph and text I had sent to her of a proliferation of bitterroot flowers near my house with this: “Wow!  This winter did bring us joy.”

I am going to take that and run.

Make no mistake, we had a brutally long, cold, and snow-filled winter.   We followed that with heavy rains and rivers that remain swollen to this day.  My road washed out.  Trees have toppled over. 

But, dammit, we have some pretty spectacular flowers to show for it this year.  The Rocky Mountain Front was as spectacular as ever.  Near my house, our state flower, the bitterroot, is blooming in unprecedented numbers.

I don’t much appreciate winters like the one we recently suffered, but, in the long run, it did bring us joy. 

--Mitchell Hegman