It is 9:45 PM and I am sitting in the kitchen with a
tuko lizard on the ceiling above my head. He’s about 8 inches long: shorter
than my foot. We’re not much afraid of each other. Just enough to induce a
mutual respect, I would say. I could stomp him to death; he could give me a
bite to remember. But hey, we’re not in competition here. I don’t eat bugs and
mice and he won’t eat anything which refuses to crawl, fly, slither or hop.
It’s a kind of unspoken
agreement. I give him a place to hang out - with family if he so desires - and
he helps keep the population down to 5 people, one dog, an occasional unwary
pest, and a horde of transient ants (not his cup of tea).
Emelie had a family of tukos
living in the tiny bedroom of her mountain home and she never had a run-in with
one of them. But she did get bit by one when she was young, while climbing to
the top of a coconut tree. He was on the other side of the tree when she
reached around to get a hand-hold.
The lizards, and any other
animal life that live at the top of the coconut tree (including rats and bats)
can bask in the relief of knowing that I will never be climbing a tree to greet
them.
Mr. Tuko here is just a young
one. He will grow a couple more inches and fatten up considerably. In the house
we rented before building this one, we had one living behind our dresser, where
he rested up during the day for his nighttime foraging. He lived there a year
and then disappeared for another year and finally came back to stay.
I like lizards and snakes,
which is, I suppose, on the outer fringe of the American-standard-attitude
toward such beasts.
Hopeful
I didn’t feel so good this
morning. I woke up wishing I hadn’t. My wife wrapped her body around me and
held me until …until Shane pried her way between us and nested there like a
worm in wet spaghetti. We laid motionless and all-huggy as if we were holding
out for something spectacular enough to give us a reason to disengage and start
the day.
For me, it didn’t happen. My
lungs were dragging along in ‘sorry ass’ mode most of the day. My recollection
of the rest of the day resides in that part of my brain where memories are
wrapped in a self-protective haze and labeled “Do Not Open sans ‘Fresh
Perspective’!”
I think the fresh perspective
might just be getting a foot-hold. Tonight I feel much better, and tomorrow
holds the possibility that there could be another jewel-of-a-moment for me when
my wife, the sun and daughter arise.
No comments:
Post a Comment