Sheep PJs

They spent the day raking leaves.

“All day, every day, for weeks,” Marlene grumbles good naturedly as she brings out a hot cup of coffee to me, her breath blooming in front of her in the cold of the fall morning.

I lean the rake handle against the trunk of one of the big oak trees that are responsible for all this work, leaves crunching underfoot as I make my way back to my apple-cheeked wife. She might be bundled up in a parka with gloves, scarf and a jaunty knitted cap, but from the waist down I can see she’s still wearing the sheep-patterned flannel pajama bottoms paired with thick socks and a pair of my slippers. The slippers are comically large on her feet, but the reason I’m smiling is because of those sheep. These were pajamas from Christmas last year. Marlene burst out laughing when she opened the package, taking in the fluffy white sheep dotted against a blue plaid background. On the pocket of the pajama top was one black sheep. “The naughty one,” she dubbed it. I loved it when she wore them.

“Not for weeks,” I countered between sips. “Just long enough to make it seem so.” It did seem to be an endless job, the accumulation of the week’s shedding thick in places, slick from frost or rain in others. I can’t say it’s my favorite thing to do every weekend, but it gives me a chance to get outside after a week in the office.

The screen door bangs open. Buddy, our golden retriever, is the first out into the yard, followed closely by the two angels that are our daughters. The girls are dressed for the weather, with matching pink parkas and purple rain boots.

“Daddy! Make a leaf pile!” Buddy barks happily, racing around from pile to pile, skidding to a stop to sniff excitedly, tail wagging a mile a minute before he races to the next.

Marlene retrieves the empty cup I hold out to her and makes her way back up the stairs and into the warmth of the house. No doubt she had the girls get dressed as soon as they woke up. I can tell this by the state of their hair, still messy from sleep. There’s also no doubt that Marlene will curl up on the couch with a blanket and book, happy for some peace and quiet while I wrangle leaves and children.

Anjette, seven, is the older and, according to Anjette, the wiser of the two. She’s enrolled in the fancy charter school across town and takes infinite pride in readying her uniform the night before each school day. Her backpack is always ready, too. Amazing that these kids have homework, but you can bet Anjette’s is completed soon after she returns home each afternoon. She takes after her mother; poised, prepared and ready to face life with grace and aplomb.

Petra, recently turned five, has graduated pre-K and is now charming her way through kindergarten. Marlene and I will most likely apply to have her join her sister at the charter school, but for now she’s at the local public school a couple of blocks over. I drop Anjette off in the morning on my way to work while Marlene walks Petra to her class. Winter, when it sets in, will make walking inadvisable, but Marlene’s made of pretty sturdy stock. She’ll want the girls to be resourceful when it comes to weather conditions.

Petra chases Buddy. I watch them play, then glance over at Anjette, who looks sleepy. There couldn’t be a greater difference between the two girls. Petra takes after me, much to the chagrin of both my wife and my oldest daughter. In a flurry of mismatched socks, lost hair bows and “I don’t wanna” wails, there is always drama, at least Monday through Friday, as Petra struggles to understand why she has to go to school again. We’re hoping the move to the charter school with its routine sameness of uniforms and class schedules will alleviate some of that. Fingers crossed.

“Had a good sleep, chickpea?” I hand Anjette the rake. Sleepy or not, she’ll help. The cold air and the activity will rouse her soon enough.

“Yeah.” Anjette yawns, rake scraping at the top layer of leaves that we’re standing on. “I was dreaming that it was Christmas.”

“Hmm. Christmas already?” Anjette’s dreams are usually precursors to upcoming events. I need to listen to her conversation today because she’ll be dropping hints of what she wants for Christmas this year. She’s never been the type to want everything in the store or what she sees on TV. Anjette knows exactly what she wants.

Petra and Buddy race by again, Petra slipping and sliding as the soles of her rain boots make contact with the wet leaves. Buddy feints and runs around my legs. Petra screeches as she takes up the game, grabbing me around my knees so suddenly that I almost lose my footing. My arms cartwheel as I try to keep my balance. Petra lets go as suddenly as she grabbed on, both girls starting to laugh at the hilarious sight of their dad trying to not end up ass over tea kettle amidst a myriad of dead leaves.

Marlene comes back outside just as I’m completing my impromptu Three Stooges act, this time with two steaming cups of hot cocoa.

“You all right there?” The girls gallop toward her, clamoring for their own cup. Joy of joys, their mom has also provided their most favorite thing. Marshmallows.

“Yep. All good.” I manage to sound dignified. I think.

Later that night, the girls tucked into bed and Marlene and I sitting close under a blanket in front of a fire, I think back on the fun day we had. The memories we made. Sighing happily, I kiss the top of Marlene’s head, then lean my cheek on it.

They spent the day raking leaves.



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998 words

Prompt: Begin and End your story or poem with this line, bolded: They spent the day raking leaves.