“Oh, you two, with your fanciful prose! I have to take refuge in music ... matter-of-fact music.”
She touches her guitar.
“Philip,” I say, “don’t you think we can catch the dawn soon up here?”
He is silent, not knowing.
“John, don’t be foolish,” comes my mother’s voice. “How do you expect to see the dawn at midnight?”
“But the mountain is so high.”
“What difference does that make? Eh, Doctor Stein, what do you think of the foolish ideas of my boy?”
“If you went high enough,” smiles Doctor Stein, “above the earth, you could catch dawn at sunset.”
My mother tosses her head, tossing the discomfort of the thought away.
Mildred’s laughter peals: “Oh, I shan’t be satisfied till I’ve seen that.”