{"id":391,"date":"2010-09-18T16:16:49","date_gmt":"2010-09-18T20:16:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.summerofjim.com\/?p=391"},"modified":"2010-09-22T12:01:24","modified_gmt":"2010-09-22T16:01:24","slug":"castle-on-a-cloud","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/?p=391","title":{"rendered":"Castle On A Cloud"},"content":{"rendered":"

It was not their first walk together, nor would it be their last.\u00a0 But it would be one that they both would remember; \u2019til the last great\u00a0kreetisfer bird dropped from the sky.<\/em><\/p>\n

It was not his suggestion.\u00a0 It was not his decision.\u00a0 But he was not opposed to a \u201cdestination wedding.\u201d\u00a0 Ever since his nephew married in Taos, and he spent 4 days in the high elevation sun of New Mexico\u00a0in a town with no national brands<\/em>, he reckoned that destination weddings <\/em>were cool (as long as that destination did not mean being in a war zone, or a potential war zone).\u00a0 And no one could possibly think of Bermuda as\u00a0war zone, actual or potential.<\/p>\n

The stretch of sand that they walked hand in hand was called Long Bay Beach, and it enjoyed the afternoon\u2019s setting sun\u2026 which they both preferred.\u00a0 He would have said that there was a warmth to the yellow in\u00a0a setting sun that was absent in the blue of the early morning sun.\u00a0 And warmth in life was a good thing.<\/p>\n

The soft water inched onto their bare toes, he blinked into the sun as it made its way to the water line, \u201cYou do know that I love you?\u201d<\/p>\n

There is a castle on a cloud,
\nI like to go there in my sleep,
\nAren\u2019t any floors for me to sweep,
\nNot in my castle on a cloud.<\/em><\/p>\n

He knew that silence did not mean that the question was not heard.\u00a0 Hard to focus on words after you\u2019ve had a couple of mojitos, when you are\u00a0erev <\/em>bride, walking with your father, taking in a pristine Bermuda sunset.\u00a0 He could wait for an answer.<\/p>\n

She knew the question was unnecessary. She had to smile to herself, he is more nervous about being the father of the bride than I am about being the bride!<\/em> She wondered if this was the way it was supposed<\/em> to be\u2026 the insecurity roles reversed.\u00a0 But she wouldn\u2019t let that thought take away\u00a0from the warmth of the June evening, from her excitement, from her happiness, from the richness of\u00a0her memories both sweet and bittersweet.<\/p>\n

Looking at the\u00a0wet sand at the water\u2019s edge\u00a0she said, \u201cNo sea glass here.\u201d\u00a0 She loved sea glass and started collecting it when she was just a little girl.\u00a0 The beaches on Long Island Sound offered up a decent supply of glass shards that had been beaten to a dull smoothness by the sea and sand.\u00a0 Whether she began the collection on her own, or at her Father\u2019s suggestion, she could not remember.\u00a0 But surely, prospecting for glass on\u00a0the rocky beaches\u00a0of Norwalk was a solitary pursuit that fit her natures well.\u00a0Besides it was quiet.<\/p>\n

There is a room that\u2019s full of toys,
\nThere are a hundred boys and girls,
\nNobody shouts or talks too loud,
\nNot in my castle on a cloud.<\/em><\/p>\n

With her Father there was always a story.\u00a0 Where did it begin?\u00a0Where did\u00a0the fiction\u00a0take off and diverge from the real<\/em>\u2026\u00a0but even as a little girl she knew\u00a0a story had a ring of the real<\/em>, even when it sounded silly.\u00a0 She loved it.\u00a0 Maybe more now in reflection, as the bride-to-be, than as the little girl.\u00a0 Later she would say it was the effect of the third mojito\u2026 or the water lapping on to her feet, or the sinking sun.\u00a0 She did feel the squeeze of\u00a0his hand.\u00a0 She knew that he needed a story\u2026 something that would make him feel less worried.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere is a story you used to tell me when I was sad,\u201d she said.\u00a0 They both stopped their walk, and turned to the sea.\u00a0 A film director would have called it a money shot<\/em>.\u00a0 She took both of his hands in hers, \u201cand\u00a0so, a big white kreetisfer\u00a0bird, dressed appropriately for the occasion, circles high, folds its wings into a steep dive, not to gather a terrified rodent into its talons, but to rescue the little\u00a0girl from shape-shifting monsters who consumed girls instead of smelly vegetables.\u201d<\/p>\n

Through his eyes he had to laugh.\u00a0 He knew the story well. He hugged her. \u201cThank you, thank you so much.\u201d<\/p>\n

There is a lady all in white,
\nHolds me and sings a lullaby,
\nShe\u2019s nice to see and she\u2019s soft to touch,
\nShe says \u201cCosette, I love you very much.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThere is more,\u201d she said.\u00a0 She took off down the beach, arms spread out into wings, kicking at the water, wheeling in-land and skipping back to him. \u201cThey traveled for miles and miles\u00a0past the land of the crypto-fascists and the troglodyte-republicans, they threw stink bombs on Fenway Park and they rode the thermals to a beautiful land where strawberry twizzlers had replaced broccoli and asparagus in the food pyramid\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026and no one had to cry.\u201d He finished.\u00a0 \u201cThank you, thank you so much.\u201d<\/p>\n

I know a place where no one\u2019s lost,
\nI know a place where no one cries,
\nCrying at all is not allowed,
\nNot in my castle on a cloud.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It was not their first walk together, nor would it be their last.\u00a0 But it would be one that they both would remember; \u2019til the last great\u00a0kreetisfer bird dropped from the sky. It was not his suggestion.\u00a0 It was not … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[15],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-391","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-stories-brief-tales"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/391","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=391"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/391\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":395,"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/391\/revisions\/395"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=391"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=391"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/summerofjim.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=391"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}