Through Ramona's Eyes

Today there is a Nor'eastern here in Boston. That's a bad storm, usually with snow, which forces you have to stay inside and blows your garbage cans around your yard. The wind is wild.

Sumner, Ramona, and I, being the troopers that we are, still braved the rain and wind this morning when we walked to Sumner's bus stop. It was pretty wet. Sumner walked backwards for part of the journey. When we got to the "bus stop" (an unsheltered corner two blocks from our house), Sumner and Ramona and I huddled close together. Ramona exclaimed, "This wind is going to blow me off the corner." Sumner and I chuckled, imagining Piglet flying on the end of his sweater string in "The Blustery Day".

Finally, the bus came and Sumner climbed into the sauna of a bus. I wanted to ride a couple blocks with him to warm up. Ramona and I waved goodbye to him. Then we stood on the curb, waiting for a gap in the traffic to pass. A wet paper plate lay in front of us on the street. Ramona said, "Look mom. The moon." It seemed to her that all this wind blew the moon from the sky to our feet.

It made me think, once again, about perspective. The old a-dog-is-as-big-to-a-child-as-a-horse-is-to-an-adult idea seems applicable. The wind, which got my pants a little wet and the kids glasses speckled and all of us wanting for hot chocolate, blew Ramona's moon down. Wow.