The Saturday Worth Sending

The Saturday Worth Sending

1September 7 — Dear Tesni, Our pen-pal assignment says to describe one square of our Saturday. Mine would be the kitchen window in our apartment. Across the courtyard are more kitchen windows. My brother peels an orange in one long strip and measures it against his arm. That hardly seems worth a stamp. Next Saturday, I’ll find something better to report. What is there to do where you live? Your pen pal, Nalin

2September 12 — Dear Nalin, Behind our house is a field, then another field. I could describe the distant hills, but your brother’s orange interested me more. Does he count the peel if it breaks? My grandmother and I play a game after lunch: she taps a rhythm on the table, and I copy it. She adds one tap each round. Yesterday I lost at eleven. I would like to hear about your next Saturday, whatever happens. Your pen pal, Tesni

3September 19 — Dear Tesni, I wrote you an exciting letter about climbing onto our roof and seeing the whole city. The letter is beside me, unsigned. I never went up there; the roof door is locked. I spent Saturday matching socks while my brother practiced peeling oranges. Your question about the peel made him announce a rule: breaks count as two attempts. I nearly mailed the roof story because I thought a pen pal would expect someone more interesting. This is the letter I’m sending instead. Nalin

4September 24 — Dear Nalin, Our mailbox leans toward the road. A spider has stretched a thread beneath its lid. I read your letter while standing beside it. I’m glad you sent the sock Saturday, because now I can picture where you actually were. I told Grandmother about the orange rule. She says we need an equally strict rule for taps made with two fingers. Can your brother advise us? Tesni

5October 2 — Dear Tesni, My brother says two fingers count as two taps, even if they land together. He has begun calling himself the judge. Yesterday, while sorting socks, I listened to the sounds from the courtyard: a spoon against a bowl, a cupboard shutting, someone humming the same unfinished tune. I used to close the window because nothing happened out there. This time I left it open and wrote down what I heard. I’ve enclosed the list. Can you make a tapping pattern from it? Nalin

6October 8 — Dear Nalin, Your courtyard makes a difficult rhythm. Grandmother and I are practicing it. I’ve enclosed the sounds from our lunch table for you to try. Leave space on your next page for the results. Tesni