NOLA Notes

They take their daughter to Oktoberfest.  This is Sun’s second.  She marvels at the oompa band, still too young to enjoy the Chicken Dance.  She is too shy to be comfortable on her own feet; she hugs her mother’s legs when set down.  Her parents are happy to hold her and not fear her getting lost in the crowd.

They enjoy bratwurst and stuffed cabbage rolls and sauerkraut and mashed potatoes.  The adults drink German beer and wines.  There is laughter and joy.

They leave the Deutschen Haus and decide to get ice cream.  They drive to Brocato’s and park on the street.  Sun’s father carries a now-shoeless daughter.  Sun’s mother looks back at the car several times, knowing she turned the headlights off but wondering why they are still lit.  After half a block, Sun’s mother turns to go back to shut off the headlights.  Three steps back, the lights go out.

Sun’s mother turns again and walks back towards her family.  She catches eyes with her daughter.  Sun laughes.  So does her mother.  They hold each others’ gaze and laugh lightly, no one paying them any mind.  They are caught in the moment like it is its own planet; held together by an ephemeral magic.