Something Wicked This Way Comes

But what father ever really believes [his child is his own]?He carries no burden, he feels no pain. What man, like woman, lies down in darkness and gets up with child? The gentle, smiling ones own the good secret. Oh, what strange wonderful clocks women are. They nest in Time. They make the flesh that holds fast and binds eternity. They live inside the gift, know power, accept, and need not mention it. Why speak of Time when you are Time, and shape the universal moments, as they pass, into warmth and action? How men envy and often hate these warm clocks, these wives, who know they will live forever. So what do we do? We men turn terribly mean, because we can't hold to the world or ourselves or anything. We are blind to continuity, all breaks down, falls, melts, stops, rots, or runs away. So, since we cannot shape Time, where does that leave men? Sleepless. Staring. 

Three A.M. That's our reward. Three in the morn. The soul's midnight. The tide goes out, the soul ebbs. And a train arrives at an hour of despair...

Bela at 4 - fishing the drainage ditch

I'm reading Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes to the girls. It's not age appropriate, but it takes place in small town Illinois the week leading up to Halloween. It's perfect.

I've never read the book before, but saw the movie at the Castle Theater in Bloomington, Il, way back when. I must have been 8 or 9 years old. It obviously stuck with me.

We're taking it slow, they're asking a lot of questions. The book is flooded with metaphor, analogy, hyperbole. Mae likes to listen, doesn't mind if she's not following along perfectly, falls asleep while I'm reading. Bela though, she is on it.

I read the above passage earlier this evening as they were tucked into their beds. I was struck by it, feeling like I've been pondering this very thing, from the other end. When I finished, I asked Bela what she thought about Charles Halloway - the father of one of the main characters, the man to whom this internal dialogue belongs. I figured she wasn't following at all.

"I think he wishes he were a better man. No, a better person."

Sometimes I look right at that girl without seeing her. Sometimes, it's easy to think of her as just a bundle of messy clothes, crooked teeth, and bouncy hair I have to feed, help with homework, get to bed. But that girl, she always comes around and blows my mind.

Good night.