Snippet

I watch him watch as we sit outside for dinner on a balmy evening. His spoon is poised in a limp hand, mouth slightly ajar, concentrating.

“What are you looking at dear?”

I count to fifteen with ‘ands’ as he processes.

“Um …….my new friend.”

I double check, it’s just us, Dad, Nonna, little brother and me, no friend, imaginary or otherwise.

I hope?

Would an imaginary friend be a good thing?

“What’s he called dear?”

I pause and wait.

“Um…….I dunno?”
“What does he look like?”
“Um……..jus ordinary.”
“Can you describe him to me with your ‘good describing words’?”
“Um………..no………..but yah can look for yurself,” he adds as the wobbly spoon points at his Dad’s back.

We all look.

His Dad shoots from his chair flailing.

“Good grief! That "Praying Mantis" must be three inches long!”

















So much to share, so little time.