{"id":4865,"date":"2004-05-28T13:21:46","date_gmt":"2004-05-28T17:21:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.law.harvard.edu\/httpblogslawharvardeduceerock4\/eclipse\/"},"modified":"2014-02-24T19:48:51","modified_gmt":"2014-02-25T00:48:51","slug":"eclipse","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ceerock\/eclipse\/","title":{"rendered":"Story: Eclipse"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a><\/p>\n

copyright 2004-14 Cynthia Rockwell All Rights Reserved<\/p>\n

Franny is digging in the dirt. It\u2019s a sunny afternoon, and she is alone in her front yard on a suburban street. She digs along with the distant rhythmic sound of the mail truck running from house to house, revving and stopping, revving and stopping. Each time the truck revs, she smiles, knowing it\u2019s getting closer. Finally she hears the engine louder and closer, and she drops her digging stick and runs to the mailbox. She stands barefoot, dirty from digging, stringy blond hair a bit knotted as it falls down to her waist. Her knees are skinned and scabbed and she wears cutoff denim shorts and a Supergirl t-shirt. She stands on her tiptoes, antsy and dancing as the truck approaches. When it pulls up next to her on the curb, the mailman leans out and hands her a pile of mail, smiling. \u201cThank you!\u201d she chirps, and runs up the yard to her house as the mailman moves on to continue his rev-and-stop rhythm.<\/p>\n

Inside, the house is quiet. Franny climbs up the stairs with her pile of mail and opens a bedroom door in the back hallway. She drops a few pieces of mail as she enters the very dark room. The light from the sunny day outside is prying in around the closed shades, framing them like an eclipse, providing the only dim light in the room. She walks over to the bed. \u201cHere\u2019s the mail, Mommy,\u201d she says to her mother, who is lying with her eyes closed. Her mother stirs and reaches her hand out, eyes still closed, and cups Franny\u2019s face in her hand. \u201cThanks honey, but not now,\u201d she says. \u201cMommy has a migrane.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I open it?\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure honey, but out in the kitchen, not here. Mommy needs to rest.\u201d<\/p>\n

Franny hurries off to the kitchen to open it. She passes the sink, which is full of dirty dishes. She climbs onto a chair at the cluttered kitchen table and tears into the mail. It\u2019s typical mail\u2013bills, flyers, advertisements\u2013but she imagines it\u2019s all addressed to her, letters from pen pals all over the world.<\/p>\n

Once she\u2019s opened all of the mail, she takes the pile back into her mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks honey, just leave it on the bed,\u201d she says, without opening her eyes. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you go play outside?\u201d<\/p>\n

Franny goes back out to playing in the dirt. A neighbor drives by and waves, and she waves back. She watches the car as it goes down the street. She brushes off the rock she just unearthed, then drops it in her pile and walks to the neighbor\u2019s house and knocks on the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan Matty come out and play?\u201d she asks when Matty\u2019s Mom opens the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s about to eat lunch, Franny,\u201d she says. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you come back a bit later?\u201d<\/p>\n

She walks across the street to Melissa\u2019s house and knocks at the door. Melissa answers, and asks her mom if she can go out and play, but her mom says they\u2019re about to eat lunch so she can\u2019t go out. She tries a few more doors, but no one can come out to play. They\u2019re all eating lunch.<\/p>\n

As she\u2019s walking home Franny hears the roar of the garbage truck. She freezes. She runs as fast as she can to her house and hides on the side of the house as the truck roars onto her street. It stops in front of her house, and she kneels down and shuts her eyes and waits. When it roars to life again and moves on to the next house, she runs to her front door and inside. She watches out the window as the big ugly truck rattles and snarls its way through the neighborhood. She goes in to her mother\u2019s room, where the shades are still drawn and she is still lying in bed. Franny climbs up onto the bed and curls up against her. She lies on the bed and shuts one eye and traces with her finger in the air the square outline of light prying past the thick blinds, framing the windows.<\/p>\n

After awhile she goes to the kitchen and gets some crackers from the cabinet. She gets some crayons and paper and sits down and begins to draw pictures. She crunches crackers as she draws. A house, a big yellow sun in the top left corner, a bright green lawn, and stick figures of her all her family members\u2013Grandma, Aunts, Uncles\u2013standing outside smiling. She writes each person\u2019s name above their head. She looks at the pile of mail, and back at her drawing, then gets a new piece of paper and begins scrawling in crayon:<\/p>\n

Dear Aunt Mary,<\/p>\n

How are you? I love you. I drew this for you.<\/p>\n

Love,
\nFranny<\/p>\n

She then takes another sheet of paper and forms a makeshift envelope, folding it and taping the edges with scotch tape. She takes it in to her mother, who is now sitting up in bed, looking out the half-opened blinds. She climbs onto the bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I send a letter to Aunt Mary?\u201d she asks.
\nHer mother looks at the drawing and smiles. Her eyes are puffy. She takes the letter from Franny and pulls her into a hug. \u201cOf course sugar,\u201d she says, kissing the top of Franny\u2019s head as a tear spills down her cheek.
\nFranny goes back outside just as a police cruiser pulls into the driveway. Her dad, in uniform, climbs out. She squeals and runs over to him and hugs him. \u201cHey Kitten,\u201d he says, scooping her up. His shiny black boots creak as he carries her up the stairs and she tells him about her letter.
\n\u201cWhere\u2019s Mom?\u201d he asks as he sits Franny down on the couch.
\n\u201cShe\u2019s in your room,\u201d Franny says, jumping on the couch.
\nHe glances down the hall, then goes into the kitchen. Franny runs ahead of him and gets the pile of mail.
\n\u201cI opened the mail for you!\u201d she says, beaming. He chuckles and takes it from her. \u201cThanks Kitten,\u201d he says, sitting at the table. She climbs on his lap and curls against him as he sifts through the bills, advertisments, flyers.
\n\u201cLemme go check on your mom,\u201d he says, kissing Franny on the forehead and setting her down as he heads down the back hallway.
\nLater that night the three sit around the dinner table, Dad now in a t-shirt and jeans and mom in her housecoat. She scoops leftover casserole onto their plates as Franny chatters with her Dad.
\nAfter dinner Franny draws another picture, this time for her Aunt Suzy, as she hears the muffled sounds of an argument in the back hall.
\n\u201cYou have to get out of bed!\u201d she hears her father yell.<\/p>\n

\u201cEasy for you to say, you\u2019re never here! You leave me all alone to deal with everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t look like you\u2019re dealing with anything!\u201d<\/p>\n

The next day Franny is waiting at the mailbox again, this time with the red flag raised. She opens the mailbox and looks in, sees her stamped, addressed envelope, and shuts the box. A few seconds later she opens it again, peeks in, and shuts the box. When the mailman pulls up, she\u2019s grinning widely as he reaches past her to open the box and take her envelope.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

Later that afternoon Franny pulls her fluffy white lace party dress from her closet and brings it in to her Mom, in bed.
\n\u201cCan I wear this to Matty\u2019s birthday party today?\u201d
\n\u201cIs that today honey?\u201d her mother asks, slowly sitting up. She takes the dress from Franny and kisses her on the forehead. \u201cOf course you can wear it. You\u2019ll be the prettiest girl there,\u201d she says.
\n\u201cWe don\u2019t have a present for Matty, do we,\u201d she says. Franny nods her head no. Her mother frowns and stands up and goes to her closet. \u201cWell if your father were ever here maybe he could help with these things. I guess we can give him one of these toys we were going to give your cousin Joe for his birthday.\u201d She pulls out a box of robots and action figures, and Franny chooses a two-headed dinosaur that transforms into a shiny blue car.
\n\u201cYou like that one?\u201d Franny\u2019s mother says. Franny nods, and her mother pulls her into a hug. \u201cLet\u2019s draw a bath for you,\u201d she says.
\nAn hour later, Franny steps out into the sunlight in her ruffly white lace dress, black patent-leather shoes, and white socks with a ruffle around the ankle. Her clean, blow-dried hair gleams in the sunlight and she carries a brightly-colored package for Matty. Her mother watches with pride from the doorway as Franny walks down the street to Matty\u2019s, two houses down. Mr. Quigley is outside raking his lawn, and when he sees Franny he stops and watches the gleaming white confection as she passes by, smiling. Once she\u2019s at Matty\u2019s house, he gives Franny\u2019s Mom a wave and watches as she waves and withdrawals back into the house.
\nAt the party, Franny eats hot dogs and french fries and cake and ice cream. She plays tag with the boys, scuffing her patent-leather shoes and getting green grass stains on her ruffly dress. She chatters with Matty\u2019s dad, who asks her what she wants to be when she grows up.
\n\u201cA princess!\u201d she says, dancing on her tiptoes, fluffing her ruffles. \u201cOr an archaeologist,\u201d she says, adding a few extra syllables to the clumsy word.<\/p>\n

\u201cAn archaeologist!\u201d laughs Matty\u2019s dad. \u201cNow that\u2019s one I\u2019ve never heard. Do you know what an archaeologist is?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her eyes grow wide as she lowers her voice and says with reverence, \u201cThey dig in the dirt and find treasures.\u201d<\/p>\n

He laughs and pats her on the head. \u201cWell I hope one of those career paths works out for you,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

The next day when Franny gets the mail, she tears through it hoping to find a letter for her from Aunt Mary, but there\u2019s nothing for her. She goes in to her mother\u2019s room to tell her, and she explains that it takes a few days for Aunt Mary to get the mail, and a few more for her to write back.
\nFranny goes outside and gets a group of kids together to play kickball. Before the game is over a few of the kids\u2019 parents start calling them in for lunch, so the group disbands and Franny goes inside. When she steps into the hallway she can hear her mother on the phone, crying.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what\u2019s wrong with me,\u201d she\u2019s saying. \u201cAll I ever wanted was a family. This is everything I wanted. But I\u2019m going in circles … I\u2019m exhausted … and he\u2019s never here …\u201d She sees Franny peek in the doorway and quickly wipes her eyes. \u201cCome here honey, it\u2019s Aunt Mary,\u201d she says, smiling as she wipes her face. \u201cShe called to thank you for your letter.\u201d<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

Later that afternoon, the kids are all back outside, ready to resume their kickball game after bickering over what the score was when they left off. Soon they tire of having to stop every few minutes for cars to pass through, so they quit the game. Franny strolls over to her family\u2019s big green station wagon and climbs in, calling for all her friends to pile in.
\n\u201cLet\u2019s go to the store!\u201d she says, taking the wheel herself. She pulls her mother\u2019s big black sunglasses from behind the visor and puts them on, though they\u2019re nearly as big as her face. She turns the wheel, pulls knobs, pushes levers, and soon the car is moving. The kids in the back seat squeal as the car drifts down the driveway, across the street, up the neighbor\u2019s driveway and into their yard, mowing down a big green bush. The car comes to a rest and is quiet for a moment, and then the kids climb out and examine the smashed bush. Everyone is hushed and giggling and looking at Franny. Soon parents start trickling out of their houses to behold the spectacle of Franny\u2019s big green station wagon backed up onto Mr. Quigley\u2019s lawn with a mangled bush under its rear tires.
\nBut not Franny\u2019s parents. Mr. Quigley takes Franny over to her house and knocks on the door. Her mom takes a long time to answer, and Franny opens the door to go get her. Her mother comes to the door in her robe, confused.
\n\u201cHello Jean, I just thought you might like to know that your daughter\u2019s been taking some driving lessons!\u201d He chuckles and waves a hand over toward his lawn, where a growing crowd is gathering around her station wagon. She gasps and looks down at Franny, who is looking down at her dirty toes.
\n\u201cWhat did you do, Franny? Someone could\u2019ve gotten hurt!\u201d Franny buries her head in her mother\u2019s housecoat.
\n\u201cI\u2019m so sorry Jeff, we\u2019ll pay to get you a new bush.\u201d
\nHe waves his hand, saying \u201cAw, that\u2019s okay, I was thinking of ripping that old thing out by the roots anyway. But you might want to lock your car doors to keep this one from growing up too fast!\u201d He chuckles and glances past her into the house. \u201cHow is everything, Jean?\u201d
\nJust then the police cruiser pulls into the driveway. Franny\u2019s mom frowns, apologizes again to Mr. Quigley, and takes Franny into the house. They sit on the living room couch and look out the window at her dad in uniform now dealing with the commotion over the mangled bush.\u201cWhat did you think you were doing?\u201d she says to Franny, who shrugs sheepishly. \u201cI like pretending to go places,\u201d she says.
\nLater that night, Franny hears the same fight in the back hall.<\/p>\n

The next day, no mail at all. Franny watches the mailman move from house to house. When he leaves her street, she looks up the street at the row of mailboxes. She walks up to her neighbor\u2019s box, and opens it. It\u2019s filled with mail. She pulls out the envelopes, and shuts the mailbox. She walks to the next house, opens their box, and takes the envelopes. She continues, taking mail from every mailbox on her street.
\nShe hobbles back home with a huge pile of mail, smiling as she brings it inside, goes directly to the kitchen table, opens the window blinds, and opens it. But it\u2019s all the same, bills and advertisements. No drawings, nothing for her. She goes into the living room to watch cartoons.
\nA short while later her mother comes out in her robe and sees the pile of mail. She begins sifting through it, and soon she realizes that it\u2019s not theirs. None of it is theirs. And it\u2019s all opened. Neighbor\u2019s bills, letters, mortgage statements. All opened. She looks into the living room and asks Franny where it came from. Franny hides her head under a pillow. Her mother sits down, stunned. She goes back into her bedroom.
\nFranny hears the shower running as the Smurfs come on the TV. Just as Smurfette is escaping Gargamel\u2019s dark castle, her mother steps into the living room, now fully dressed, wearing makeup, hair pinned up in a bun. She grabs the pile of mail and takes Franny\u2019s hand and they go outside and return the mail, house to house. Her mother knocks on every door, apologizing, chatting with each neighbor as Franny peeks from behind her leg, smiling bashfully at her neighbors.
\nAfter all of the mail is returned to its rightful owners and Franny\u2019s mother has spoken with every person on the block, reassured that she won\u2019t be prosecuted for the Federal offense of tampering with the U.S. Mail, she and Franny return home. They sit in the shade of the porch, Franny in her mother\u2019s lap as she rocks in the porch swing. A few cars ride by, and Franny\u2019s mother waves. She looks into the house through the screen door. \u201cMommy should get some of those dishes done.\u201d
\nFranny climbs down from her mother\u2019s lap and stands at the edge of the porch, peering down the street to see if any of her playmates are outside. She doesn\u2019t see anyone. She places her feet in one straight line, heel to toe, and walks along the line of shade on the porch. One half of each foot warm and heated by the sunlight and warm wood, the other half cool and comforted in the dark shade.
\nHer mother gets up to go inside, and Franny follows her. Just inside the doorway, she looks back and sees Matty come outside with a soccer ball, and asks if she can go play with him. \u201cSure, honey,\u201d her mother says.
\nFranny stands in the doorway, light flooding in around her from the hot summer day. \u201cLove you, mommy.\u201d
\n\u201cI love you too, Franny,\u201d her mother says as she disappears into the cool, dark house. The sun is pouring in through the screen door, and Franny steps out into it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

copyright 2004-14 Cynthia Rockwell All Rights Reserved Franny is digging in the dirt. It\u2019s a sunny afternoon, and she is alone in her front yard on a suburban street. She digs along with the distant rhythmic sound of the mail truck running from house to house, revving and stopping, revving and stopping. Each time the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":92,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-4865","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P58QoK-1gt","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ceerock\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4865","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ceerock\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ceerock\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ceerock\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/92"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ceerock\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4865"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ceerock\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4865\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6286,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ceerock\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4865\/revisions\/6286"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ceerock\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4865"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}