We're sitting on a pebbled path in a friend's backyard, our kids splashing in the pool. We chat about our lives, pulling up the crabgrass that has taken hold in the clay and rocks despite the drought. It's cool now...there's a strong breeze, and the sun has slipped behind the swaying trees.
The children decide to admire the grapevine now, which is heavy with sweet fruit. During the day, the mockingbirds raid it, too...but they're gone now, resting for the morn'.
The kids eat cool yellow watermelon with delight. They pretend the tiny pebbles are beans in a soup. The eldest walks around, cradling a tiny spoon, saying "hot, hot, hot" and blows on it then offers a pretend bite.
A low-flying plane captures our attention. The last rays of sunlight hit it as it begins its descent. We look at each other and laugh...it's a curiously pretty addition to our scene, this big man-made flying machine shimmering at dusk.
The wind moves the trees. It's silent again. We dig. We're content.
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