Their long journey was almost over now. Almost. Neanderdad stared wearily at the road before him, his thick knuckles tightly gripping the steering wheel. His mate sat grimly beside him, a wrinkled bag of Goldfish crackers clutched in one hand and an assortment of rejected children’s music CDs in another. Not a word passed between them. They shared the silent bond of endurance. Continue reading →

“When is it coming?” the girl asked.

Neanderdad and his wife shook their heads. They didn’t know. And so, on a pair of rocks beside a parking lot, between the train tracks and a pathway to the beach, the whole family waited.  Only the slightest of ocean breezes blew. The sun shined down benignly on them, unable to penetrate either the sea mist in the air or the layer of sunblock shielding the children. A seagull cried out in the distance. In a feat of patience that Neanderdad knew would never be reproduced on demand, the children simply sat. Continue reading →

Neanderdad closed in on a long-legged bug as it bounced spastically against the living-room wall.  He held a tissue in one hand and a rolled magazine in the other.  He was ready to strike.  This was Neanderdad on his game;  he was focused, in the moment and on the hunt.  The dog stood beside him, a slight wagging of the tail showed his endorsement of the venture. Neanderdad’s offspring stood on either side of him, their bodies half turned in preparation to flee if the insect made a menacing move.
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Neanderdad looked around nervously before unloading the boy from the car. There was barely a soul in the outer parking lot at the community center where he took his 2-year-old son to swim, but he felt that a thousand eyes were upon him. The boy pointed excitedly at an airplane flying by and called out loudly, “Airplane.”

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Neanderdad was the protector. In a panic, he lurched across the room toward his son, stumbling over the dog that had sprawled inconveniently on the carpet. The boy was maddeningly agile for an 19-month-old and Neanderdad had been looking in another direction for a microsecond too long. In that moment, the boy had climbed onto the sofa and bridged the gap onto the living room coffee table. He now tottered gleefully over the hardwood floor like a drunken cliff diver.  Neanderdad just managed to grasp him in midtopple, earning the reward of a stubbed toe on the table corner. Continue reading →

Neanderdad’s people have many traditions, many important legends.  And at no time of the year were there more traditions and legends than during what Neanderdad’s people called ‘The holiday season.’   With this season now upon them, Neanderdad and his mate had dedicated themselves to exposing their offspring to every nuance.   The tree was up and decorated.  Stockings were hung with care.  Bright strings of lights twinkled on and off from the fences around their dwelling.  They even had a motorized and illuminated reindeer, which bobbed and whirred on the lawn, delighting the children (and disquieting the dog).   Continue reading →

Neanderdad concentrated so hard that his brow ached.  He knew his attention had a tendency to drift, but he was alone today with the girl and he wanted to stay in the moment.  He wanted her to know that she was his sole focus. That she was loved.   The only distraction in the dwelling was the dog, who had tried to insert himself in their play several times.  Neanderdad pushed the beast away. Continue reading →

It was dawn and Neanderdad was dreaming.  After struggling to get to sleep, then struggling to stay asleep, he was finally there.   He dreamed fitfully of a lush, green, mammoth-stocked valley.    Neanderdad was a night hunter, built for late-night forays.  He was not built for the morning.    But morning was now upon him.   Continue reading →