We were sitting at the dinner table late last night eating left over pizza. It had been a long day and everyone was just sort of in a daze. The girl’s squiggly hair was hanging across their faces like bad graffiti. A little boy, face smeared with dry tomato sauce from that afternoon was busy painting a fresh layer of tomato sauce on over top.
I glanced around the table and realized that Clara was staring out the window at the neighbors house, obviously deep in thought.
I broke the silence. “What are you thinking about Clara?”
She continued to stare for a few more seconds, and then she closed her eyes and left her mouth fall open. She breathed once slowly and said, “This. This is what it is like to be a house.”
I put down my fork and gave the quiet little Buddha statue my full attention. “Excuse me?” I said.
She took another slow breath. “All day long,” she said softly. “All day long, a house does this.” Her eyes resting closed. Her palms flat on the table on either side of her plate. Her jaw hanging loose. She breathed. In and then out again.
“Huh,” I said after a few moments. “Cool. Well, how would a house eat a pizza and go to bed? Show me that one now.”