Questions

Life’s questions dotted the landscape of my mind before memory. Like thistles scattered by an errant wind, questions planted themselves in secret wherever carried, rising with spiky yellow faces - not dead but transformed and ever insistent.

Curiosity, like road signs upon my genetic map, directed me one Saturday morning, post Pop Tarts & Milk, in pursuit. I was in the backyard, still in pajamas, preparing a feast of Texas mud pies with fresh rainwater from last night’s storm.

Seeking the hose to wash muddy hands, I spied a ladder in solitary repose against the roof. Dad was up earlier installing the “weather rooster”. The ruckus disrupted my umpteenth viewing of my favorite Scooby Doo. He abandoned the towering invitation keep his date with a fishing pole. Now the invitation was mine.

Questions crowded my head crushing caution. Curiosity spouted freely as I sidled a bit closer to gaze wide-eyed up its length. Appearing as cotton bolls with flat, dark bottoms, the momentum of the rain clouds mesmerized, brushing in haste past the rooftop.

Aware the death penalty – or worse, a spanking was imminent, I whipped around to check for mother or any tattletales. The drone of the vacuum informed me Mom was otherwise engaged. Maci and Joe, probably glad to be rid of “the little pest”, were elsewhere.

Transfixed, I took hold, fingernails biting into palms. With toes gripping inside my sneakers, I began climbing. My knees floated, as if I tiptoed upon the clouds getting closer by measure. My lips parted in a gap-toothed smile from the idea I may soon discover the source of rainbows and the secret of rainy days.
Moments later, the rooftop broke into view. Shingles and dried pitch crackled under my knees. I gingerly scuttled, no longer crawling across a high rooftop but now traversing rough terrain for Yukon gold, then inching along a jungle floor on safari.

Adventure found me on my back watching clouds shift, spreading out like the sheets on our clothesline. Patches of blue and momentary shafts of light beamed and leftover raindrops found my upturned face. A cold stray splashed onto the furrow under my nose and promptly disappeared into my smile.

Aware I couldn’t tarry in this forbidden land, I retraced and stepped carefully back upon the ladder. I paused looking about from my lofty perch. I witnessed leafy treetops bursting with preening birds, gazed upon the naked field behind our house and observed the lonely stretch of interstate adjacent.

Moreover, young eyes washed over a world far beyond familiar fences. The path sprung up before me from unformed dreams like seeds in the soil of my mind. I, like dreams, was safely ensconced in the bosom of family, requiring nurture to blossom.

With new knowledge and old wisdom, I began the trek back. As I went, I remembered this is how Jacob’s angels brought answers to prayer. I delivered up a smile to the one who surely measured my steps as I descended.