I’m not off to a great start. I went away for a week and didn’t bring my laptop charger. But have no fear. I credit that more to my precarious short-term memory than to my resolve to write. A person who toasts an English muffin, thinks about grabbing a plate and half a second later proceeds to hand it, dripping with jam, to her husband plateless really cannot be expected to remember a power cord.
When I was ten, our class planned a big field trip. We were abuzz with what would be in our picnic lunches and whether or not we’d get away without wearing a jacket. If you were cool, you were jacket-free at all times. We’d bring our bikes and ride them onto the Barnston Ferry which would have us on Barnston Island after a chatter-filled, five-minute ride.
The sun was gleaming, my windbreaker was bottle green, (I was never a cool kid) my bike was burgundy, my best friend’s sparkly pink polish was chipped and my sandwich was peanut butter and banana. We lay on our bellies in the tall grass and let the blonde blades wave lazily over our eye-lines. The girls giggled about the boys and the boys chortled about the bugs and we cycled the 6-mile radius a few times over, with zero signs of exertion, pretending we were Lone Rangers or Charlie’s Angels.
Now, what was the point of this post…?
Hazy Shades of Me 