The lazy amber ball slips slowly behind a distant hill after a long August day spent overheating this little pocket of the world. One hundred or so degrees today. Melted chocolate in my purse. That’s what I’ll remember from today. Walking from store to car, just enough time to melt a bar of chocolate.
“Le Vie en Rose” is playing now though, in the cool apartment where I find myself alone, sitting and still, for the first time since moving in. The Paris-style melody crescendoing through the speakers wraps around me and I’m dreaming dreams, more than I can count, the way I do whenever I hear this song. I’ll remember that, too, when I think of today. At least, I’ll remember it for a couple days…melted chocolate and “Le Vie en Rose” dreams.
And an early dinner with mom over Gram and P.A.’s 70- or 80-some-year-old oak table. Mom’s in town a few more days before returning to the great British isle so, with little other than a few errands and a dentist appointment to interrupt our visit, we’ll enjoy meandering moments that will pass too fast. And I’ll remember this also: dinner with mom, our fresh red tomatoes spreading their tangy juices around our empty plates.
And all that “important” stuff scribbled and screaming at me in hasty capital letters on scraggly scratch paper (STORE, PEST PEOPLE, VITAMINS, CLEAN BATHROOM) begins to fade as the sun peeks through leafy motionless branches, winking at me one last time. The next time I look up, she has hidden beneath the hills, leaving only a glow and reminders of a day.
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