The Girl Who Learned To Kneel

Well, we are officially back in Toronto!

I have been slow to write because I’m still recovering from our journey: the claustrophobic quarters, the ice chunks on my fingers, the daily Elsie freak outs, you know. The reverberations are deep. Because let me just say, The Little Beauty has lungs and opinions stronger than mine. I think she might even be…moody. There I said it. Curses. The husband is moody. The Girl is moody. And now the offspring.

You wouldn’t know it at this moment. Currently, she is swaddled tight like baby Jesus and feigning the temperament of an angelic being. But the parents know.

Exhibit A. Road trip day five or six or seven or maybe even eight. It’s all very blurry.

Elsie reaches her limit in the car. I’m frantic and starting to freak out myself: “Pull over. NOW!” We find ourselves huddled outside the Springboro Fire Station. They invite us in, after first inquiring what the hell we are doing outside their door in the freezing cold at eight o’clock at night. Are we high? Do we have a knife, a bomb, anything threatening? An upset baby. How does that rank? Will you take pity on our wind blown torsos? Yes. We stand around and utter short phrases about our trek from California to Toronto. It’s kind of awkward. We pulled them off the couch. It was a good episode of CSI. Why on earth are we driving, they want to know. Oh, you know. For kicks, we say. Our version of an extreme sport. I’ll pick up the questioning from here on in. You guys have children? Oh yeah, they say, and just wait until their teenagers. That’ll get ya. Um. Wow, you keep your station really clean, I say. They like that. Good one, Bec! We just jumped a thousand notches and can stay. And good thing ’cause Elsie’s not quite calm. I continue my inquiries. I can get people talking. The eating habits of firefighters, the weather, their sacrifice and bravery. Would you like to see the trucks, they ask? Would I? Absolutely. Very impressive waxing job, Gentlemen. Can I hold the jacket you wear when you plunge into those dangerous flames? And your oxygen tank? Wow! The firefighters are elated. It’s been a slow night. No action in Springboro, and here’s a nice young lady swooning over their work.

See, Elsie Pelsie, my sweet pyro. No need to be sad or moody ’cause life is good, and your mama comes through for you. She has her own knack for putting out fires.