just around the corner

We walked down over around and up after dark -- the first official walk of the season past the Magic House. It was all flowering plums and sweet smelling blossoms along the way, and people tucked snug inside their houses until warmer nights when windows will swing wide and screen doors will clap shut with the in and out of summer. Our cheeks were rosy red upon return, but we stood in the driveway like always and chatted for a few minutes more. Life seems to roll on at a steady pace, yet my most favorite things remain the same: twinkle lights strung over the arbor, the sound of basketball games after supper and the feeling that summer is just around the corner.

early birds and bagel bites

We went for bagels early this morning. The early bird bagel crowd is a curious breed: all beanies and babies and cups of coffee. Men in scrubs and men with scruff. The lone ones sit in quiet corners contemplating world issues and government scandals, and sip java from Styrofoam cups. The mothers huddle with their brood and are anything but quiet. They spend most of their time chasing and herding their wee ones who scatter off to introduce themselves to the shy folks in the corners. A slow smile curls up on some of their mouths, while others seem indifferent. Their eyes peer over their papers for a moment before they return to their morning ritual of reading and sipping.

We lingered at our table while Elizabeth nibbled at her banana. We chatted about everything but world issues and politics. Content sans coffee and sans paper, the conversation was as filling as my toasted sesame bagel with a strawberry schmear.

morning scribbles

Somewhere in a small bathroom in the basement of a house built long after the west was won, steam rises from an empty shower. The door goes from crystal clear to foggy in a matter of moments as small beads of water collect on the opposite side of the glass.

Extra sleepy feet hit the soaked floor and steady themselves. She adjusts the temperature and begins her routine of daily doodles on the shower door. This morning, she scribbles out lyrics from the chorus of a country song. Drops of water roll south, spontaneous punctuation to the tune of the morning's cowboy twang in her head. Fog filters up from the bottom of the shower. One by one the words drip into one and then disappear into the mist.

thursday

routine |rou-tine| (noun): a sequence of events regularly followed.

Thursday |Thurs-day| (noun): the day of the week before Friday and following Wednesday.

sunshine. window. teeth. face. book. knees. pear. yogurt. laptop. email. let's go sailing. water. hair. clip. elastic. sweater. orange. buttons. boots. color box. lily allen. a falling through. car. pump. quarters. wash. clean. white. natalie. smile. baby. sounds. macadamia nut. store. paint. red. green. yellow. blue. house beautiful. car. phone call. roommate. plans. office. store. zoey deschanel. office. cut. samples. paper. pen. envelope. car. ingrid. mom. grey house. stephanie. red sweater. orange sweater. curb. colors. paint. stripes. mudroom. spring. sunglasses. boy. house. sale. sign. music. car. katie. nook. maren. hulu. andy. justin. sloth. laugh. brother. cafe rio. table. yellow. fork. knife. city park. joggers. jetta. nook. steph. bowling?. toast. table. visitor. james. papers. mission. kasi. guesses. white board. croatia. virginia. japan. puerto rico. thailand. iowa. text message. dark. lamp. plan. curtains. laugh. peek. ann frank. quote. car. ice cream. almond. hot. milk. boy. smile. sit. talk. laugh. text message. world record. broken. rich. park. car. corner. red chair. idol. norman. seinfeld. olympics. swimmer. laugh. steph. floor. oat bag. phone call. anne. baby. car. leigh. house. anne. elizabeth. grandpa. cinnamon bears. binky. little legs. blue shoe. pearls. pictures. envelope. home. stairs. boots. orange sweater. pjs. slippers. drink. faucet. face. teeth. email. elizabeth. felicity. noel. knees. book. nephi. journey. journal. doodle. list. switch. pillow. covers. sleep.

challenge |chal-lenge| (noun): a task or situation that tests someone's abilities.
Taking m.writes to heart.

tuesdays with

His car would always be in the first slot. Except on Wednesdays. On Wednesdays, he was a slacker. On Wednesdays, his car was in slot three, which wasn't all that far away from one, or so I tried to tell him.

We liked to eat tomato soup, get dressed up and go to company parties and, he even took me out for steak. We ate cereal at 10 p.m. every night for almost a month. We would waste time building my dream truck online, (my idea, not his, but he was thrilled I like to talk cars), and I'd help him build a pretty sweet BMW. Once, we went to look at one. He looked good behind it, too. A natural.

When I'd take him to the airport, we had a little routine. We liked to make fun of the silly boyfriend-girlfriend types who would hug and hug and hug alongside the curb. He'd park the car, leaving the keys in the ignition because I'd be driving home. We'd meet on my side of the car. He'd pick me up in one giant hug (this is the making fun part) and, as I got a mouth full of his fleece jacket, say into my ear, "Are you going to miss me?" To which I'd always give him an overly-dramatic, "Desperately!" He'd nearly squeeze the life out of me and mutter a soft, "Good." Then back down on the ground I went. He'd let go, grab his carry-on and his golf clubs and head across the cross walk. As he walked away, I'd wait for one last signal. A small gesture. He'd turn back towards me, bend his arm up at the elbow, and open his palm for about three seconds. He'd smile his cute half smile, which for any body else would be considered a full smile, then close his hand up again. I'd do the same from the other side of the street. And, turning, he and his navy hat would disappear into the sea of travelers. We did this for years, so long in fact that towards the end, we both fessed up that we weren't kidding about the missing desperately part.

Now I have no clue where he parks. He's 400 miles away. I haven't had Captain Crunch at 10 p.m. (let alone at all) in about a year and there's no one around to help me make fun of cheesy airport couples. Mr. L, wherever you are, come back. I'm feeling like tomato soup and it just doesn't taste the same without you.
Love,
Your M of M