Dad called from up north to tell me the smoke was coming. He was up on his roof in the debris field of the neighbor’s spent fireworks sweeping it clean of branches and leaves and the ashen casings.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Prayer stretches, ice massage, working on the truck later today, some poems and riffs and stuff, my glides.” I answered. And my ASL I realized. I’d just returned from a good workout for the nerves, the strappy connections, and their insertion points in my elbow— ulner, radial, & median. My physical therapist is encouraging and confident we’ll meet our goals: I will be able to open a jar of peanut butter and hit a life-size tennis ball again in 6 to 8 weeks (without wincing and cussing). Even the one-handed backhand? It saves a step and a half. Yes, even the one-hander as long as I do the work, so I’m doing the work, increasing dexterity and range. “Was in from a walk by 7:55 a.m. and went to the library on my way home from rehab because I heard it was going to be a hot one.”
“So you’ve been out already. Are you getting this smoke?” Dad asked.
“What’s burning now?” I asked, just like my PT guy did earlier.
“Canada,” Dad said, “Everything here is tinted yellow, which is really weird since the sun has set.”
“No, Dad, it didn’t,” I said, “I’m looking right at it now and we’re in the same timezone. The sun’s bloated & diffuse & orange, not like TooobLips but, like a beautiful shot of heaven from a beach blanket in a faded 70’s surf movie.”
“Really?” he asked. “I don’t know if I’ve seen that one. Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve seen the sunset, come to think of it.”
“Yeah,” I said, “You have a couple hours yet. It should still be well above your mountains west. If the smoke doesn’t clear by sun down there will probably be pictures of it setting on the internet.”
“Wow,” Dad said, “I’ve never seen it like this. It’s already dark up here. We’re smoked in. It’ll probably be down to you soon. The wind’s turned that way, watch out. I’m going to go feed and water the birds.”
We said goodbye & I love you like we always do. And I thought:
Dad should not be on the roof.