I was tired and I certainly wasn't in the mood for socializing. The sky seemed to be an enemy, as we drove further and further into it, to find our friends' house. I bickered and squalled. I fussed and fumed. It is raining and we don't know where we are going and I am tired and this is not my idea of... we are lost and we won't find it. The sky is going to eat us, I say. Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote about the sky eating them, when the whole country was savage and uncivilized like we are driving into, don't you see the sky has teeth? My husband is so patient with me, when I get tired like this. I really am exaggerating, only a little. We looked at the numbers on the streets as we got closer and closer. Tens of thousands were the numbers, what if we miss our number we are tens of thousands out of the way, how will we ever get home again?
Our friend was outside and a happy and pleasant sight, when we got there. All was not lost. We were where we were supposed to be. When we walked in, the ceiling and the floor were pine wood. The ceiling and the floor were more sweet of a hug and I called them the teeth of the sky. Our friends' hospitality and kind provision for us was the sweetest hug from the sky that there could be. My squabbles, turned to MMMMM's and my fussing turned to fun. We had the very best time, by the light of the pine ceiling and floor. The silvery moon is far too far away to be comforting to a city girl the precious blankey of the finely set pine ceiling and the kind hospitality of our friends were a healing balm.
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