Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Withrow Park, beach blanket limbo

Caucasian male, late 20s, wearing a blue t-shirt and cargo pants. Caucasian woman, late 20s, wearing a green spaghetti strap tank top and faded jeans rolled to the knee. They lie on a blanket, head-to-head, going through the motions together. As they've done before, seven books over their seven years, they each get a copy and share their weekend, toe-to-toe, knee-to-knee, side-by-side, sharing. Once finished, a copy finds its home on their bookshelf, the other into the eager hands of their next-door neighbour's young daughter.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling (Raincoast)

About page 55:

As the curses came shooting across the intervening space again, Hagrid swerved and zigzagged: Harry knew that Hagrid did not dare use the dragon-fire button again, with Harry seated so insecurely. Harry sent Stunning Spell after Stunning Spell back at their pursuers, barely holding them off.
He wants to suggest that with the end of this era perhaps they, too, should end their tradition. If he's honest with himself, he's happy to let this go, as nice as it was while it lasted. The playfulness is spent. He's not sure he could endure another series. He's beginning to find it childish. He knows she'll be upset. Her attachment to the girl next door has been growing. He makes a mental note to pick up a gift card from Book City. Leave it in the neighbour's mailbox.

She wonders how long she can go without telling him, absentmindedly rubbing her belly, already certain.


Charlatan said...

That was a nice little treat made especially so by my desire to be sitting in Withrow Park.

It's been more than a year since I've been there.

Julie Wilson said...

It's such a great park, hey? Last weekend, I grabbed some take out breakfast and sat at a picnic table under a tree. While I was trying to remember if I'd ever seen anyone eating eggs in a park, a squirrel tossed down a chewed up fig and brought me back to reality. Nice little moment. (Mind you, had the fig landed *in* my eggs...)