The Housewife and the Goat
There was once a housewife, no longer young but far from old, who did everything a housewife must do. Every day, she would go to the pantry and pull out all kinds of things to cook, clean the children’s fingernails, sort the sock crayon hair tye mandarin peel plastic pig car service reminder pile, recite the alphabet, calculate how many years dinosaurs have been dead , stage emotional warfare negotiations in a calm and patient manner, and always mean it when she wished her husband a good day.
One day, while she was standing at the sink reminding herself of soul purifying nature of servitude, as she worked through a particularly large pile of dishes (one that stretched all the way to the end of the bench, down onto the floor, and around the corner to the bristling edge of the lino they could never afford to replace) She suddenly felt very tired.
So she lay down on the broken lino and fell into a deep sleep. She slept and slept, and didn’t stir. The cobwebs closed over the windows, the leaves blew in through the crack in the wall, and the grass grew up around the door. Still she slept. And had many dreams. In one dream she could walk across water, in another she danced with a goat, drew warm breathe in a field of cornflowers, and grew her hair very long.
They say there are few things that will wake a person who is sleeping very deeply. Smell is not one of them. Even a very special smell, one that travelled on wings of many feathers, and landed everywhere. A soft bubbling keeping its rhythm, broken occasionally by the low vibration of a wooden spoon as it touched the sides of the pot.
So the housewife slept. But her dreams were changing. Now everywhere she wandered, she was offered a plate of food. Salty olives, spanakopita, fresh sardines, paella stirred in enormous pans, bean soup, fried haloumi, fish pie, apple salad, pilaf, relish, pumpernickel, parmesan, quince jelly, almond cakes, spiced tea. And so it went on. And at each offering she took a rest and sat and ate. And she never seemed to feel full. And each time she ate she made a new travelling companion, and they were all very merry, and quite musical. And so it happened that just as she was handed a plate of preserved lemon to sample the companions hit a particularly high note and she awoke.
There standing at the stove was a goat, stirring a big black pot.
She got up slowly from the lino and cracked her neck.
Hello
Hello, said the goat.
He handed her a bowl of soup. The best soup she had ever tasted. And she felt happy.
No sooner had the soup reached her belly than she felt uneasy.
The salt made her feet still and heavy.
She imagined her soles were growing roots and reaching deep into the soil.
There the earth was cool and soft. She didn't want to leave.
The goat watched her tenderly and she felt her heart crack.
He should not he see her put the bowl down.
But she did put the bowl down. And didn't look back.
She looked for the clock.
"Goodness look at the time."
"And look at those cobwebs" . Ripping her toes from their beds.
Then she mopped up the blood with her dress hem and went to look for the broom.