“Remoted” – Day 491 (Tuesday)

There was wailing outside at 7:00 this morning. The sound was something between that of an injured animal, grief-stricken person on a TV show who just witnessed the brutal murder of a loved one, and a toddler in the midst of a meltdown.

As I edged towards the sliders leading to the deck to have a peek, wondering who to call in the event of a wildlife incident, I saw one of the new neighbors getting into her car. Her youngest son, the one who was playing in the puddle in his underpants a couple days ago, was serenading her with mournful wails. I couldn’t tell if she was heartbroken to have to leave him with his live-in grandparents for the day or relieved to escape the noise as she headed to work. Probably a bit of both, but I’m totally guessing, never having had someone so emotionally distraught at my departing for work.

Nope. Not budging.

The sobbing continued, rising and falling. I opened the front door to try and coerce the stubborn Canine Overlords across the enclosed porch and outside to potty, knowing that Moose had not had his morning poop yet and hoping to avoid any pre-work carpet cleanups. Moose stood his ground and delivered his trademark stare that silently screams, "nope". 

The tiny vocalist next door, barefoot and heartbroken, was pacing the driveway in circles in the spot where his Mommy’s car had been parked just minutes before. He wore camo patterned shorts. I wore camo cargo capris. The wardrobe similarity has me wondering if it means I dress like a four-year-old, he dresses like an old lady, or that earth tone camo patterns are just universally appealing. Let’s go with “universally appealing.”

Grandma was on the porch, trying to convince Little One to turn down the volume and come inside for breakfast. I waved to her as I tried to convince the Canine Overlords to go outside to the overgrown front yard after their breakfast. I finally won, but it wasn't easy.

I left the yard for the outside perimeter of the fence to address the abundant crop of weeds. The task wasn’t tackled on Monday due to trash barrels and a neighbor’s car parked along the front of the house. Oh, yeah, and soaking wet everything from the days of plentiful rain. The child’s wailing continued, along with the adult’s promises of breakfast that had me wanting to take her up on the offer.

While I focused on the weeds, the human noise stopped. For a few minutes it was just chirping birds. One benefit to all the rain is that the earth releases the weeds a lot easier, so it was quick work cleaning up the street side of the fence.

After returning indoors to coffee, the quiet was broken again. This time it was the sounds of the basketball bouncing on the asphalt, hitting the backboard, hitting the rim. The sound is more pleasant at 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning than it is at 10:00 or 11:00 at night. Morning basketball usually involves just one high school kid who practices several times every day, with focus. When the younger kids from across the street are out at the same hoop, usually in the late afternoon and at night, it’s several of them trash talking to each other. Luckily, they rarely last too long and quiet eventually returns.