Lesson 6 - Setting the Imagery Table

Delilah ran out into the living room. The new bunt-yellow shag carpeting wrapped around her toes like her best winter mittens.

“Happy Birthday, to me,” she announced, jumping onto the worn beige couch and then flopping down on her backside before assuming a prone position.

“Happy Birthday, Bumpkin.” Her dad looked up over his Saturday morning paper. He sat in his over-sized arm chair. There was just enough room for her to squeeze in next to him on cold winter mornings, but today she was ten-years-old. She was too old to cuddle with Daddy now. She was double-digits, after all. She gazed at the tan walls of the living room. Her eyes fell on the framed pictures of her years growing up.

“Ever wonder what happened to all those years, Daddy?” she mused. “They seem to have just slipped away.”

“Yes, Delilah,” her dad chuckled, “and you are wise beyond yours. Yes, those years all just flew by.”

Delilah wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she guessed that, for old people, time went even faster than it did for kids like her. She pulled her Six Million Dollar Man blanket up around her shoulders. The drapes were open already, even though it was not yet light out. She could see the snow coming down, illuminated by the front porch light on the other side of the white metal door next to the console TV. She always thought of each snowflake as having its own identity since she learned in science class that no two were every alike, but these all melded into a white wall falling silently from the sky. Angels sent them for her birthday, Delilah was sure.

“Breaking news!” Her brother James bounded down the stairs. She was jealous of his upstairs room, but her parents thought it better for her to be just down the hall from them. The only other room on the second floor was what they called her toy room. It housed an old school desk with a connected chair from her mother’s old school when she was a kid and a bean bag chair on the far wall. The interior wall was lined with bookshelves facing the double window out to the sledding hill. Underneath the window was her toy box, which held all of her prized Barbies. Near the door was a dollhouse that she and her father had worked on for years. It was stately, and the image of the home she would have as an adult.

She began to think about the man she would marry. He would be a doctor, for sure, as would she. She imagined the five kids they would have together. Then her brother’s words broke through her thoughts.

“School’s cancelled!”

“Are you serious?” Delilah sat straight up. She loved school. How could it be cancelled on her birthday? What a cruel twist of fate! She had a math test today, and she’d studied her flash cards for three nights straight. She was ready for that test like a wino for a drink. She craved education, and knew not much else. She slumped back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. It was coated with the years of her parents smoking and dotted with “accidents” that she and her brother had perpetuated. She recognized one stain as the ketchup, meant for a hot dog, until her brother threw a fake snake on her plate; another was definitely James’ science project from last year. How stupid could he be to think those chemicals, no matter how mild, would not explode when placed together? Despite her mom’s endless scrubbing, she could still see the remnants of her growing-up years.

“Well then,” her mom said, striding in from the kitchen. “I guess we should just make some sledding plans for Del’s birthday, then.”

Delilah hoped she would be her mother’s image when she was grown. She looked into the kitchen at the shiny Formica counter tops and the gleam of the metal-edged dining room chairs. She wondered how her mom, with two kids like her and her brother, could keep the place so immaculate. Even the small yellow roses on the linoleum floor seemed picked freshly out of the garden outside.

“Sledding!” James yelled, jumping onto the couch with Delilah. “We’re going sledding!”

As James bounced around her feet, jarring her body on the slumping couch, she realized her birthday wouldn’t be as bad as she’d thought. She ran to her room to get dressed as James bounded back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

________________________________________________________________________


“Hop on Del!” James coaxed and Delilah agreed readily. She didn’t want to walk up that big hill herself. Her brother pulled and tugged the wooden sled with the metal runners up the hill.

“Wait,” Delilah whispered.

“What’s your problem?” James slumped into the snow and looked back at her.

“Look up there. Be quiet.”

“Whoa.” James moved slowly back to the sled where Delilah was perched.

“Deer,” she said, pointing. The hill was more than twenty feet up. It came to a gradual grade through the back yard next to the swing set, and then took another steep ten foot plunge before leveling off in the meadow below. With the grade of the second hill, most sled runs would take a five minute trek back up to the top. James had built a jump on the upper tier. He said it was so they could just fly through the yard, but most times he slowed the sled just before the jump, drastically cutting their speed.

“I see ‘em,”

Delilah starred up through the evergreens that lined the top of the hill, layered with their new, white coats. They were stately in their presence, making her birthday insignificant. As she watched the white tails, a smaller, orange form popped up in the snow. James sat down on the sled next to her, as silent as she was. The fox scampered around with the deer briefly, and then flitted off into the forest, coming back occasionally to check things out.

The snow fell harder and coated their hats and snowsuits. Delilah didn’t feel the cold. She watched the deer and the fox play in the fresh fallen snow. She heard a howl far off in the distance and knew it was the wolf her parents worried about, but she felt at peace. She didn’t move. James leaned closer to her. A Chickadee jumped down from a barren birch tree close to the sled. Del watched his three-toed tracks as they meandered through the snow. She wondered what he was looking for, but didn’t dare ask.

A ray of sunshine cut through the murky clouds of winter, flashing off of the snow. She shielded her eyes for a moment, then felt the need to look again. The Chickadee hopped a few feet, then stopped to look at her. Of all the animals she had seen in those few minutes, the Chickadee meant the most. Her mom told her that the Chickadee was the bird of January, and that, since she was born in January, they had a special bond. She starred through the snow, wondering if being a doctor was the right choice. Maybe she should be a veterinarian… or maybe an ecologist.

“I smell bacon!” James jumped up and started to pull the sled down towards the house. “Mom must be making breakfast!”

Delilah smiled as her animal friends bounded off into the forest. That question could wait for the answer of another day.