I went to the lake today. It was one of those perfect Arizona days. The sun warmed your back while the cool breeze was chilly enough to give rise to a light smattering of goosebumps. As always there were planes coming and going from Sky Harbor and nearby vehicles on the 202, but it was peaceful regardless. It may have been because I decided not to wear my hearing aids too.
I shared my french fries with an adolescent gosling. He was so small, but his feet were enormous. When several others of his flock joined us, he decided he preferred their company to mine. He swam away and took his flock with him. I was out of fries anyway.
I saw a chihuahua in a life vest riding a kayak. Its owner stood before it paddling and its little body lurched with every stroke. I resumed reading after they sailed by. It’s Vonnegut today. Hocus Pocus. I’ve never read it before. It’s funny and dry and very direct. I can already see its affect on my writing. I love when that happens.
I have no reason for writing this, except that it happened. Today happened. I often sit and think about all the days I’ve observed that, for some reason or another, I’ve forgotten. So thus my observation of today. Will I do this regularly? I tell myself I will. But I probably won’t. I know me. I’m lazy and I never have enough time.
I walked after my butt started to hurt from the warmed concrete I sat on. I walked until the sun ended. Basically where the Arts building blocked the afternoon sun.
There were lovers under the train bridge. Dogs out walking their humans. A boy who found immense amusement quacking at the geese. An older father, at least ten years senior to his wife, comforted a crying baby in a striped onesie. There’s a sweet elderly couple walking hand in hand that makes you wonder what their story is. And a young couple, laughing and smiling, but sitting so far apart they might as well be on different continents. Although I saw them kiss twice.
Runners jog, their footfalls like steady heartbeats when you know their own heart really races two or three times that.
There was a pregnant woman on a yoga ball with weights, a man, presumably her partner, behind her and rubbing her back. And a teenage boy, of like mind with me, sitting atop a concrete hill, writing.
I left when the temperature shifted a discernible degree or two, the sun beginning it’s descent. Admittedly I have things to do anyway. Groceries. I’ll need to eat at some point. Besides I’m uncomfortably cool now and the car will be warmed from sitting in the sun.
committed almost every ‘bad deed’ in the book of ‘How to Be An Author’, she now strives to educate other writers through humor and simple instruction.