Coffee: Cafe Pajaro Extra Dark Roast, Trader Joe’s Brand
The rain took the heat away, then the rain went away too; packed-up houses. I took my daily walk in the space it left.
Tonight, I saw: a new family. The mother and father were both taller than me; their son was twig-high. He was toddling, dressed in a red tee. They held both his hands when he needed it. The three walked the parking lot searching for sticks and acorns. He picked one; he wasn’t satisfied.
“They’re better by the playground,” Dad says.
“Yeah,” says the toddler.
There’s a bend in the neighborhood that obscures oncoming traffic. The rain washed the tires of an SUV loud enough for me to dodge. My downstairs neighbor drove by. She waved. In her wake, I saw a mother and daughter slogging toward recycling. Mom was stern. She had handfuls of wood and cardboard. Her daughter was sterner. She pulled a pink wagon full of broken boxes.
Trees look best in a storm; your first love coming out the shower. I snapped a few pictures, even the sewers looked nice.
At the dog park, wet fluffs were yapping. They had death in their lungs but cuddles everywhere else. Their owners chatted across the fence. The dogs weren’t happy. Both were fat, still hungry.
The last stretch goes by the office, the pool, there’s a deck that’s always open and a guy in a dark armchair who’s always watching TV. We see each other often but look away when our eyes catch.
I took the new bridge across the stream. I saw the family again, only the Dad and son this time. I waved. Dad waved. The kid ran circles, he was scared of me; I’m no stick, no acorn. I said “Hi Hi!” to red shirt, folding my best paper-plane smile.
“Say hello,” said Dad.
“No!” said his son.
He ran away to find more fairies. I wasn’t hurt; summer storms are enticing company.
Currently Reading: LaRose, Louise Erdrich
Support Relief for Family Suffering at the Border – RAICES DONATION CAMPAIGN
“I’m tryna get high as I can.” – Future, Hate the Real Me