Tag: CeciliaKennedy

What the Trees Won’t Hide

Oct 17  |  Cecilia Kennedy

Houses belong in thickets of woods. Thatā€™s what my parents believed. For privacy, for escape from work. Who wants to look out their window and see neighbors? But we have one: Mr. Yessler, and his house is also shrouded by trees. So we donā€™t see him too much, except I have a view of his shed from my bedroom. Mom and Dad say I donā€™t really need curtains because the trees hide everything, and I could just get dressed for bed in the bathroom. However, my pajamas are in my room with me, in a drawer. Itā€™s much easier to just slip them on and look out the window at Mr. Yesslerā€™s shed.

ā€œHeā€™s always working late at night,ā€ I say.

ā€œYou shouldnā€™t spy on him. Everyone needs privacy,ā€ my parents tell me.

But thereā€™s nothing else to do in a house in the woods but watch out the window as Mr. Yessler gets his shovel each night and digs until late.

ā€œWhatā€™s he digging?ā€ I ask Mom and Dad.

ā€œMaybe a pool? Maybe heā€™ll invite you to go swimming?ā€

Maybe. Mr. Yessler ploughs our driveway in the winter and walks me to the school bus at the end of our long, shared driveway. Of course, heā€™d let me use the pool.

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The school cafeteria sometimes serves milk cartons with pictures of kids whoā€™ve gone missing. I donā€™t recognize any of them. They all live far away.

Mom and I go shopping for pajamas after school. I choose a pink frilly frock with puffed sleeves and ruffles. I put my nightgown on in my room and watch Mr. Yessler dig until I fall asleep.

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Mr. Yessler knocks on our door, tells us heā€™ll be gone for a while. Can we watch the house? Mom and Dad say they will, of course. Heā€™s been so kind. When I hear his car pull out of the driveway, I think about what heā€™s been digging, hoping itā€™s a pool heā€™ll share. So when Mom and Dad go to the kitchen to make dinner, I slip out the front door, head down the driveway, creep around backā€”and hold my breath. Heā€™s dug the biggest pool I could ever imagine, and though itā€™s just dirt right now, it looks like thereā€™s a lot of water inside already. I just know heā€™ll invite me to go swimming.

All the way to the edge I go, to look in, but thereā€™s so much stuff floating on top, so many ugly things, like shoes and hair ribbons and cartons of milk with photos dissolving into the muck. A pool shouldnā€™t have so many of these things inside. Shouldnā€™t have so many clippings and sketchesā€¦ shouldnā€™t have a framed picture of a girl in her bedroom at night, wearing pink ruffled pajamas.