One More Sustainable Living Life that I Have Never Lived

Cottonwood Lane at Dry Creek:  I wish my cottonwood would someday equal those in this story, but unfortuantely, one by one they are dying, and I'm not sure why.

Mica lives down a long gravel lane edged with cottonwoods on one edge that run alongside a long, narrow ditch with slow moving water.  The valley is low and wide with chalky-white powdery soil.  The wind is flat and the sun is a blade.

Now, if you’re thinking, this is another coming of age story, you’re wrong.  Mica is only five with a thick body, almost fat, but not quite, and a large head.  She has thick black hair and big black eyes.  Picture Dora the explorer in flesh and blood and you will see what I see.  Rather, this is a sustainable living story, a glimpse of soil, place and community, life as it should be.    

My wife and I walk down that lane hand in hand around ten.  The water runs slow and the sun reflects intense off the surface water covered with cottonwood scum.  I notice this as we near Mica’s house and the ditch enters a corrugated metal pipe that runs under the driveway.  There is a paper cup with Coke printed on it half-sank in the water and caught against the grate that keeps the cottonwood leaves from clogging the pipe in the fall.

When we arrive, Mica is on an old yellow swing-set with faded purple flowers.  It is rusted and leans, and as the swing rises with Mica’s pink flip-flopped feet outstretched, it’s back legs jump off the ground.  Then, as the swing goes back, the front legs jump.

Marci worries that it might tip over and yells, “Be careful.”  Wanting to practice my Spanish, I translate for Mica who knows English better than most whites her age, "¡Ten cuidado!"

Mica just laughs and kicks her feet higher.

In another story tension leading to tragedy might build here, but perhaps there is enough of that in the world already.  So, Marci simply reaches and gently grabs and releases the chain on one side again and again until the swing slows.

However, as she grabs only one chain, the swing begins to swing at angle towards the bar.  I panic and rush to save this sweet little girl from my wife who I happen to know failed college physics.  So did I, but that is another story that has nothing to do with sustainable living—quite the opposite actually.

But Marci is not the idiot I sometimes think she is.  She simply uses her other hand to straighten the swing by gently pushing on Mica’s chubby bare leg.

And as Mica comes to a stop, Marci glares at me:  “And what are you doing?”

“Um….um, coming to rescue an innocent child from my incompetent wife.”

“That’s what I thought!”

Mica sees the tension and a mischievous smile as wide as this dusty valley spreads across her face.

“What?” I say in a false exasperated tone.  And at that point Mica begins to laugh so uncontrollably hard, we join in.

©Steve Brown, 2014