The splatter of blooming dogwoods in the newly greening woods, a stick figure woman with a mop of curly hair jogging along the sidewalk like a come to life Barbie, two girls chattering in a boxy Volkswagen convertible their hair flying in the wind, a jay-walking old couple, a yellow school bus climbing uphill like a buoyant sun, a biker snaking gracefully in and out of my lane ,a nesting duck in the bushes, a flawless blue sky - such a rush of beautiful images in momentary awareness of my surroundings this morning.
I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...
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