Last Week. Friday. Twilight. Perfect weather. Driving home from a sojourn to Herrell’s, a sojourn that happens far too often, a sojourn for what my grumpa calls medicine, but is more often called ice cream. So we’re heading home- And I have the windows cranked down because the weather is warm, and I find James Brown on the radio, and I crank that up. And I turn around and dance with my 18 month old who is exemplifying funk while he boogies in his car seat. Yah, people are staring while we are stopped at the light. This does not bother my almost grown-up self. It would have bothered my 17 year old self.
After James Brown, I flip the radio from channel to channel trying to orchestrate the perfect soundtrack for the rest of our ten minute drive home. First, it’s a story about Julio down by the school yard, but then Dylan is singing “I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.” Bob gets it right every time. I listen to him croon while the sun roof is open to just let in the moon on me and my family — And I think of how I’m remiss to start school when there are nights like these to be had– But I’m so much younger now than I was in June, so it’s time to get in line for another go-around.
So, I’ll see you in just about a hundred hours.