Complete silence. A long walk. Slowly drinking a cup of well made coffee with heavy cream and taking time to read a portion of a novel…something from a long disappeared era. Resting from the onslaught of noise. Just sitting and dreaming…with coffee and a plate of hot buttered toast…and thick creamed froth.
The first lazy day in June…when everything around beckons. Lying down, resting and I would not, could not fight it.
The vanilla white calendar square’s bold lettering says, ‘This is the first lazy, crazy day in June…by order of Hallmark’. Or so imagined, because how else is it justified to melt away into goose down?
A long month, and so very rich…full of color and motion, pink roses, the endless stream of family birthdays all clumped together in June like so much soft laundry…cake crumbs strewn from the first to the thirtieth. Every last goose feather, plumped and frumped and shaken and smoothed over…the sun bleached mounded comforter calling out…’Lie down! This is the very first lazy crazy day in June’.
He was still talking to me and I wanted to listen, but I could not, would not. I watched his mouth moving and I heard the consonants and the vowels and the dipthongs and the hard ‘t’. I understood.
I heard sounds but now…emotionless. Eiderdown drowned it in a puff fluff and shifting with my weight…the chittering, flippering birds outside the window joined the conspiracy and one single sun beam leaning through the blinds ended our conversation.
I could not, would not, should not for this was the first lazy, daisy, crazy day in June and I sank into cotton and cool and feathers and silence…
