Under the lovely blue sky

I stood on my deck today, under a lovely blue sky.  True enough, heat hung heavy in the air and my dress stuck a little to the skin around the back of my neck.  But my begonias still bloom their fierce red and pink, and the jade plant has revived since Jenny Rosen and my shared daughter Tshandra White diagnosed its ailment via FB photo.

An hour later, Brenda and I sat at Oak 63, ordering dinner from their limited menu.  Truth be told, I found mine not particularly memorable.  I splurged on calories and gluten to have shrimp pasta with a tomato cream sauce.  The dish had no salt or herbs; the shrimp was rubbery; and it came with nothing — not a lump of broccoli or a solitary spear of aspargus.

But I’m not complaining.  Brenda’s company always makes the evening rich and pleasant.  Being a funny, smart, nonjudgmental librarian from Indianapolis seems to be an excellent combination for a good woman pal.  And I can’t ask for a better friend, as any Seinfeld afficionado would attest.  She’s taking me to the airport on Sunday for my trip to San Jose.  The Airport.  On a Sunday morning.  At five a.m. no less.  Somewhere in my wicked, terrible youth / I must have done something good.

Now the sun has slipped down below the far side of my neighborhood and the crickets have taken up their nighttime chattering.  I’ve talked to my son in LA and done a load of laundry.  The dog sleeps beneath the dining room window.  I stand on my porch and wonder where this year has gone — this year during which I had vowed that I would, finally, learn to live a joyful life.

In the sweet still summer night, no grievance plagues me.  I draw in a long pull of cool air before going back inside my little bungalow.  Tonight I will sleep without regard for any care that might seem more daunting in the dawn.

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