Like a Train

Earlier this week, we were able to get out of the house and go visit my son at his work. These happy murals are painted on the buildings near where he works.  It was so good to see him!

It was nice to be out in the city in the sun. This has been such a rainy summer and a stay-at-home summer.

Which isn't entirely bad. 

We are inundated with tomatoes now. I think I could eat tomato and mozzarella on toast sandwiches every day for the rest of my life.

Last night, we went to a birthday party. It was at a semi-outdoors location and was almost rained out. Everyone was zig-zagging around through gallons of standing water, massive puddles. A too loud, not so good, band blasted cover songs from the indoor part of the building. But everyone seemed happy. People were just glad to be socializing, having a bite of cake and a chat with someone they had never met before.

A train clattered by on the tracks the building opened on to, and I stood for a moment watching that train and thinking of all the summers past, one after the other, pulled along like those train cars. The rhythm of summers from childhood when the back porch playroom smelled of vinegar and dill from a long day of my mother canning pickles, to the punk rock clubs where I stood on the night time fire escapes when I was in my twenties, to the night when the boys were asleep in a cheap motel in Wyoming and their dad and I sat on the concrete sidewalk and laughed and ate fried cheese.

The Summers.

Here comes a writing I think. It's been nagging around in my head for weeks. I've got eight days. I write it in eight days, can't I? At least a draft.

I'm sure I can.

Happy Summer, everyone!