There is something magical about summer. New light shimmers on fresh dew as the birds wake with the rising sun. Already at 7:30 am the light is filtered through the trees casting little diamonds on my driveway as I toss my purse in my car. There’s some kind of magic in the air. So much so that it’s almost tangible on my skin.
“Today is going to be a good day”, I think to myself as I sip on my smoothie of the day and buckle in. My my head hits the roof of the car and I sigh.
“This is why we can’t have good hair days”. I put the car in reverse and the small indent where the pavement of the road meets my drive rocks the car, sending my hula dancer into a rhythm and rubbing my head into the fabric of the roof more and generating even more static, but it’s not going to ruin my day as I remind myself what’s ahead of the drive. I continue pulling out of the driveway and onto my street, running my hand over my face to brush away any remains of sleep. As I open my eyes and switch to drive I glance at that decrepit old house on the corner. It reminds me of a gingerbread house that was left inside an ant hill. A rather bulbous skunk snakes its way along its splintering walls and disappears into a crevice that I would have never guessed it would fit into had I not seen it with my own eyes. As I pass the house, its stench burns my nose and I switch my febreeze car freshener to full blast on my air-vents. Not today, skunk.
Not today. Continue reading