I spent more than half of June away from home, and July promises the same ratio. Today, I was surprised by how alive I was to this place, this neighborhood, this apartment.
touch: the sun hot on my feet, adding to my flip-flop tan lines; whispy threads from my cutoffs tickling my calves; the heat of an iron pressing fabric crisp and smooth; cool water running over my cupped palms full of blueberries
sight: shadows on the sidewalk; flowers on manicured lawns; lawn chairs lining the streets in Evanston, put out days early to reserve spots for Sunday's parade
sound: whirring fan; whirring sewing machine; little girls' laughter; Josh turning old paperback pages
smell: the waxy heaviness of fabric crayons being heat-set; french fries at the bottom of a paper bag
taste: the tang of fresh lemon juice and oregano in a homemade salad dressing clinging to beets and cucumbers and peppers and tomatoes; the lovely saltiness of feta; melon cold on my tongue with tart blueberries; rich cinnamon coffee cake from a friend
Friday, July 2, 2010
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