Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Good to be Alive

At lunch today I walked across the parking lot to my bank which sits nearby. I slid my sunglasses in place and looked toward the heavens. The sky was swimming pool blue. The scent of freshly mowed grass hung on the air and smelled as good to me as bread baking.
I felt lighter and more alive. There was a mockingbird that dressed me down for having the audacity to walk under his tree. I turned the tables and made some whistling sounds which he expertly imitated and when he got bored, he let out a combinations of whistles that sounded like it could have been profanity.
"You silly, person! Your feeble whistles sounds like a drunken sailor with chapped lips," is what I imagined he was saying. I smiled and walked on.
I made my deposit and ambled back toward my building. I passed a shady knoll and decided to sit for a moment.
Even with people around, the sights and sounds of spring were remarkable. I could easily have laid back on the grass and took a nap but I was afraid someone would pass and think I'd dropped dead and call 911.
Instead, I forced myself to get to my feet head back inside. Tonight, I'm writing from the side porch. I think my column for this coming Sunday's paper will be about porch sitting weather.

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