A Memory
After hitting happy hour and sucking down a couple of margaritas, I returned home this evening to cut my grass. (Coincidentally, the whole grass cutting situation isn’t half as irritating when you’re working with a good buzz…) As I moved back and forth across my lawn, I watched the various vehicles buzz by, including the constable, whom I gave a hearty wave… he smiled and waved back… (Yea! Brownie points!)…
As the sun began to set, I finished up the lawn work, and in a move motivated by pure exhaustion, I sat down in the middle of my driveway to watch the cars roll by. The sound of crickets chirping happily in the background coupled with the light breeze rustling through the summer foliage reminded me of a much simpler time in my life.
I was eight years old, sitting in the boat on the bayou. The same sound of crickets chirping lulled me into a peaceful reverie… the slightest breeze picking up a lock of my hair and brushing it into my eyes… the sound of the breeze rustling through the brown grass on the banks of the bayou….the boat rocked lightly to and fro, the comforting sound of my father’s rod and reel making the purrrrrrr-click-click-click sound as he cast his line…. a moment later, my mother doing the same thing…
It was so comforting… and for a moment, this truly felt like home….
I miss the bayou. I miss my family. I miss my home.