Earth and Sky
have two children: Lightning and Cloud. They live near me on the bluffs of St. John’s exclusive Malibu district.
Lightning plays near us. She has a little toy in her hands: like any five year old she is full of happy smiles and giggles. Maybe she is a bit too zealous, but that’s what Lightning is all about, isn’t she? She puts the toy in my hands. I look at it: It’s a short plastic tube has a screen on one end and a rotating magnifying glass on the other.
Lightning tells me it is a bug-catcher-watcher-holder. Sky tells me that a fan sucks the bugs in and then you can pivot the magnifying glass into the closed position to inspect the cooties. I figure it out in microseconds: “You mean you collect bugs to inspect?”
Lightning says: “I told you that already: it’s a bug-catcher-watcher-holder” and then she runs down the path to the bug havens just below our perch on the bluff. Her younger brother, Cloud, looking serious, follows lightning down the path.
I share a few minutes with Earth and Sky. Parental Olympic Games are discussed and evaluated: These practical, day-to-day Olympics truly produce gods, and the titans of Earth and Sky strive for gold.
Lightning runs back up the path with a look of delight in her eyes: “Look at what I have found!” As Cloud catches up, Lightning has run up to mom and hastily puts her gadget together. The fan whirls up the little bugs in the cylinder and the magnifying glass accidentally twists open.
All the little buggly critters shower down on the Earth. She stiffens for a moment. A coldness comes over us. Cloud darkens and starts to shower. Lightning looks like she has seen the crack of doom.
Sky reaches across the table and touches Earth on her wrist and nods in compassion. Earth smiles back, brushes her face, picks up Cloud and kisses him gently, and says: “How Fun! Go get some more, but let’s not spray bugs on people, OK?”
Lightning says: “I’m sorry, Mommie, Come on Cloud, let’s find some more!” Cloud brightens and shows his silver lining as he follows.