Little gramma in pink sweats next door taking pictures of the bright red leaves. We wave and smile at each other, I don’t speak Chinese, but I planted garlic and ate the figs off my tree so I won some points with her there. Millennial gal with a furrowed brow is crossing the street. She’s all dressed in grey but her bright orange socks tell me she hasn’t given up on the day. I am still sitting in my car finishing off George Ezra’s Barcelona and singing along. I don’t care, dog walking man, if you can hear me. Cuz I can smell the orange blossoms of Spain right now and I can feel the smooth rough smooth of Gaudi’s mosaics on my fluttering finger tips.When I get home, the four goulish faces of our jack o lanterns grin at me, like they’ve been waiting. But our kids are gone. Out and about, having fun with their friends and we better get used to this. Maybe we should just take off, the husband and I, get in the car and drive drive drive. Find a hot spring, find a hotel, find a fancy restaurant. But nah, he wants to muck out the garage so I settle for the tub. And that’s just fine. That’s practical. Let’s face it, this week, I made about a hundred bucks. So…I slip under the suds and celebrate the fact that I have leftovers for dinner and don’t have to do a damn thing. It was a beautiful day and the sun kissed me on the head so tenderly, I can still feel the warmth in my hair.
