Lisa Hrabluk

“This is perfect,” said Alexandra.

“Hmmmm….” I responded, lazily glancing off at nothing in particular.

“Do you like squirrels?” she asked.

“Squirrels? Sure, I like squirrels.”

“I like bears more.”

“You do? Why do you like bears?”

“Well, because they are nice like baby bears.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Alexandra looks to the right and points into the woods behind our house.

“The bears are in there.”

“They are?”

“Yes, they are for you. Mommy and Daddy bears.”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh.”

She looks at me.

“C’mon. We should go find them.”

“Okay.”

She swings her legs out of the hammock and steps onto the plastic table that doubles as a step.

“We can go barefoot. You don’t need your shoes Mommy.”

I slip out of the hammock and follow her lead – on tip toe, back hunched, finger to lips in the universal symbol for ’shhhhhhhh’.

“Let’s ask the people if they know where the bears are,” she whispers over her shoulder.

“Okay,” I whisper back.

“Excuse me but can you tell me how to find the bears?”

We pause and listen to their answer.

“Thank you. C’mon Mommy, they said the bears are this way. To the left.”

We turn right and creep around the tent.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! A hawk! A hawk! Quick! Throw stuff at it and it will go away.”

We throw grass, dandelions and twigs.

“Whew. It’s gone. But it was a nice hawk.”

“It was?”

“Yes. It said to watch out for the crocodiles.”