basking

The sun has awakened cheerfully the past few days, lilac wisps of vapor fanning along the horizon. The dog and I walk in the morning, before the rest of them have to get up, and while it isn't as cerebral as writing until dawn, it feels right.

Savoring thoughts of summering… languishing in the day after a few hours with people I really like. How long must I wait before I can do it again? The feelings are the same, that warm toasting glow on the skin, just fragrant warm, and the perfume of good conversation. I forget how pleasant people are in my isolation here, lost in my head, (where I commune alone?)

Roller coaster emotions today as my daughter announced her first real job, right out of college, my husband moves up another rung and I argue with my son about alcohol and prom. Lily and Megg just want to play. I keep telling them, "after the taxes." They hand me extension forms and say, What about Hamilton pool, What about enchanted rock? I say… good night.

A memory though first.
When I was very young, my grandparents had a centennial farm. Not my grandparents really, my step grandfather's family, good old Charlie whose estate is still a mess… (Grandma's 4th husband) (What can I say? The women in my family know what they are doing!) Charlie's farm was situated a couple miles outside of a small town in Indiana near Greencastle (think the college town in "In and Out") The farm had a huge garden plot, a few acres, and that is why I found myself unattended and happy in a tire swing. The rope holding it to the walnut tree must have been fifty feet… that tree was enormous. The sun broke through the branches like the warm smiles of a thousand friends and if you twisted the rope around and around, the ride you would spin out on was breathtaking, like being on stage to a hundred curtain calls. The scent of walnut, tangy green when in their skins blended with the scent of hard work as the family came in with buckets of tomatoes.

Tomatoes deserve entries all their own though. You haven't lived until you've eaten a tomato sandwich made with Indiana tomatoes.

I'm typing words my mind hears but my consciousness doesn't so I'm giving in and going to sleep now. Yes. Now.