June 10, 2013
June 10, 2013 and the sky is a dusty gray. There is light rain. The lavender looks as though it is weeping while the stones in the garden glisten. There is the muffled sounds of birds chirping and puddles splashing in the distance.
A single avocado sits above the kitchen sink to ripen.
The bagels have toasted and I spread a thin layer of salted butter and strawberry jam. The coffee has dripped and we pour in whole milk and stir.
I push away the thought that it is Monday and not the day before a grand holiday to the beach where heat and humidity knock on hotel doors and sand sticks to ankles and bathing suit bottoms. Where hair dries to its natural curl and beach towels stay damp. T-shirts smell of sunblock and noses are always pink and peeling.
Until then, we'll punctuate weekends with proofing dough and early morning excursions to the local markets. We'll make plans for the garden and nap in between meals. We'll grow sleepy while reading books well past our bedtime.
It felt really good getting lost in a thought or two.