Read Online The Middle of Everywhere by Mary Pipher - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Pipher
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watching the Platte meander toward the Missouri, its broad braided channel as slow moving as butterscotch pudding.
The geese were just beginning to move south, and occasionally overhead we would see a ragged V. A blue heron claimed a sandbar and we watched him as we talked. The girls noticed everythingâa nuthatch walking down a tree trunk, the rose hips and poison ivy, the flop of a carp, and the dragonflies. Excitedly we planned our day.
Coming into the park, the sisters had seen a sign for horseback riding and they wanted to ride. They hadn't been on horses since their dramatic escape from Iran into Pakistan years earlier and I sensed this ride would be a corrective emotional experience. I agreed we would go tomorrow.
At first we were hot, but as the afternoon wore on and cicadas began to hum, the temperature dropped. Zeenat sat in a lawn chair and watched the Platte's muddy water roll by. Most of Zeenat's childhood had been spent outdoors. She seemed much more at home here than she did in the family's small Lincoln apartment. She rubbed Tanya's head in soothing therapeutic motions, an ancient remedy that went all the way back to the Stone Age. Tanya said it worked quicker than aspirin.
Meena, Shireen, and Shehla went swimming in a sandpit. They said lake water was alive, very different from swimming-pool water. It had layers, cool then warm, and little fish and currents. Meena said, "I wish we could stay here forever."
Shireen located my camera buried in a mound of camping gear. When I congratulated her on finding it, she said proudly, "I have always been good at finding things." Meena hugged me and said, "She found you for us."
Nasreen said the Platte reminded her of the Tigris River that flows through Baghdad. She said, "As a girl I walked along it every day. I read poetry on its banks. It was green, not brown like this, but it moved slowly and peacefully like the Platte."
I said that as a girl I had learned that the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers were the cradle of civilization. The sisters smiled proudly. I asked Nasreen if she read poetry now. She said no, that she couldn't read English. I encouraged her, pointing out that it wasn't too late to go to school. She said, "You haven't seen my credit card bill. I will work forever to pay it off."
I asked Shehla about her studies. She said she had gone to many schools over the years, but the schools were in different languages with different curricula. She said, "I have big gaps in what I know."
The sisters talked about their jobs. It was such tedious work and afterward they felt too tired to study. Leila asked me if my daughter had a job and I said, "Yes, she works for a nonprofit organization." Leila asked what shift she worked. I answered, "Day shift."
Tanya gestured at the beauty all around us and said, "We have spent our lives locked in little dark rooms. We love to be outdoors."
She spoke of all their journeys and losses and of the great sadness they all carried in their hearts. Shireen told of a lesson in writing class. The students were asked to make a life map, a time line with ten significant events. She said the American kids had no trouble, but she had a terrible time. The Americans listed birthdays, vacations, and maybe their grandparents' deaths. But all of her events were sadâescapes, family members being murdered, and things she couldn't write down because they were too painful to tell. She said, "I didn't do the assignment."
We prepared a beautiful ancient meal. Over the fire, using only sticks and their hands, Leila and Shireen roasted meat, corn, and potatoes. Tanya chopped eggs with some cucumbers and tomatoes. I'd brought a watermelon and an angel food cake baked by the Mennonites who sell cakes at the farmers' market. Zeenat helped me lay out plates and cups of lemonade. I served the watermelon, which Meena declared tasty. We ate under the rustling trees. It was one of the finest meals of my life.
At sunset the sun was a great orange
The geese were just beginning to move south, and occasionally overhead we would see a ragged V. A blue heron claimed a sandbar and we watched him as we talked. The girls noticed everythingâa nuthatch walking down a tree trunk, the rose hips and poison ivy, the flop of a carp, and the dragonflies. Excitedly we planned our day.
Coming into the park, the sisters had seen a sign for horseback riding and they wanted to ride. They hadn't been on horses since their dramatic escape from Iran into Pakistan years earlier and I sensed this ride would be a corrective emotional experience. I agreed we would go tomorrow.
At first we were hot, but as the afternoon wore on and cicadas began to hum, the temperature dropped. Zeenat sat in a lawn chair and watched the Platte's muddy water roll by. Most of Zeenat's childhood had been spent outdoors. She seemed much more at home here than she did in the family's small Lincoln apartment. She rubbed Tanya's head in soothing therapeutic motions, an ancient remedy that went all the way back to the Stone Age. Tanya said it worked quicker than aspirin.
Meena, Shireen, and Shehla went swimming in a sandpit. They said lake water was alive, very different from swimming-pool water. It had layers, cool then warm, and little fish and currents. Meena said, "I wish we could stay here forever."
Shireen located my camera buried in a mound of camping gear. When I congratulated her on finding it, she said proudly, "I have always been good at finding things." Meena hugged me and said, "She found you for us."
Nasreen said the Platte reminded her of the Tigris River that flows through Baghdad. She said, "As a girl I walked along it every day. I read poetry on its banks. It was green, not brown like this, but it moved slowly and peacefully like the Platte."
I said that as a girl I had learned that the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers were the cradle of civilization. The sisters smiled proudly. I asked Nasreen if she read poetry now. She said no, that she couldn't read English. I encouraged her, pointing out that it wasn't too late to go to school. She said, "You haven't seen my credit card bill. I will work forever to pay it off."
I asked Shehla about her studies. She said she had gone to many schools over the years, but the schools were in different languages with different curricula. She said, "I have big gaps in what I know."
The sisters talked about their jobs. It was such tedious work and afterward they felt too tired to study. Leila asked me if my daughter had a job and I said, "Yes, she works for a nonprofit organization." Leila asked what shift she worked. I answered, "Day shift."
Tanya gestured at the beauty all around us and said, "We have spent our lives locked in little dark rooms. We love to be outdoors."
She spoke of all their journeys and losses and of the great sadness they all carried in their hearts. Shireen told of a lesson in writing class. The students were asked to make a life map, a time line with ten significant events. She said the American kids had no trouble, but she had a terrible time. The Americans listed birthdays, vacations, and maybe their grandparents' deaths. But all of her events were sadâescapes, family members being murdered, and things she couldn't write down because they were too painful to tell. She said, "I didn't do the assignment."
We prepared a beautiful ancient meal. Over the fire, using only sticks and their hands, Leila and Shireen roasted meat, corn, and potatoes. Tanya chopped eggs with some cucumbers and tomatoes. I'd brought a watermelon and an angel food cake baked by the Mennonites who sell cakes at the farmers' market. Zeenat helped me lay out plates and cups of lemonade. I served the watermelon, which Meena declared tasty. We ate under the rustling trees. It was one of the finest meals of my life.
At sunset the sun was a great orange
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