waiting for the breeze
no air conditioning? how can you sleep??a friend asks, horrified. ive just revealed that my family has decided to turn the air conditioner off and trim our electric bill.
nobody opens a window, day or night, warns another friend, whose windows have been painted shut for a decade. its just not safe.?on this first night of our cost cutting adventure, its 30 degrees. were not going to suffer, but the three kids grumble anyway. theyve grown up in 22-degree comfort, insulated from the world outside.
how do you open these windows??my husband asks. jiggling the metal tabs, he finally releases one. a potpourri of bug bodies decorates the sill. as we spring the windows one by one, the night noises howl outside - and in.
its just too hot to sleep, my 13-year-old daughter complains.
im about to die from this heat, her brother yells down the passage.
just try it tonight, i tell them.
in truth im too tired to argue for long. im ehausted after attending grandmas estate auction. i toted home her oval tin bathtub and the chair i once stood on like a big shot behind the counter of her shop, packing chocolate and rolling coins.
my face is sweaty, but i lie quietly listening to the cricket choirs outside that remind me of childhood. the neighbours dog howls. probably a trespassing squirrel. its been years since ive taken the time to really listen to the night.
i think about grandma, who lived to 92 and still supervised mums gardening until just a few weeks before she died.
and then, im back there at her house in the summer heat of my childhood.
i move my pillow to the foot of grandmas bed and angle my face towards the open window. i flip the pillow, hunting for the cooler side.
grandma sees me thrashing. if youll just watch for the breeze, she says, youll cool off and fall asleep.?she cranks up the venetian blinds. i stare at the filmy white curtain, willing it to flutter.
lying still, waiting, i suddenly notice the life outside the window. the bug chorus shouts, ajooga! ajooga!?neighbours, sitting on their verandas until late, speak in hazy words with sanded edges that soothe me.
keep watching for the breeze, grandma says softly, and im h-huh?in reply. bugs ping the screen. three blocks away a train rumbles by.
i catch the scent of fresh grass clippings. then i hear something i cant decode - perhaps a tree branch raking the shingles on the shop roof net door.
sleepy-eyed now, i focus on the curtain. it flutters...
mum, did you hear that?my seven-year-old blurts. i think it was an owl family.?
probably, i tell him.just keep listening...?
without the droning air conditioner, the house is oddly peaceful, and the unfiltered night noises seem close enough to touch.
i hope im awake tonight when the first breeze sneaks in.
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