everything else: june day
dear internet,
a three-legged dog doesn't want to go home. she sits, tail wagging, while her owner tries to coax her, then another dog owner tries, dangling a treat, then a third: their trio of black dogs, small medium large, look on amiably and do as they please. the three-legged dog sits as her owner walks away, stays there for a good five minutes before she is finally persuaded to leave.
to the left there is a birthday party: balloons, a low table, a group of girls and a skipping-rope which two of them are twirling while the third turns imperfect cartwheels. they are chanting as they march back and forth across the field of their parents' vision. later one of the girls, alone, stalks across the grass, trailing the skipping-rope, a pair of sparkly binoculars around her neck. she circles a tree until she is out of sight, first looks at the trunk, then sits down against it. when an adult comes to find her, she says with decision, jetzt will ich allein sein: i want to be alone now.
to her left a woman in a maxidress is playing volleyball with a man. their friend approaches holding a tray aloft, waitress-style. the tray is empty. the friend and her boyfriend lie next to each other on a blanket under the hot sun motionless except for the boyfriend's foot keeping time to an inaudible beat. the woman in the maxidress spritzes them with water, laughing. to their right a pair of women has a conversation while one of them lies in happy baby, hands gripping her ankles. beyond them a girl stretches out on her side holding a can of coke that catches the light, talking to her friend, who is sitting up and squinting against the sun. across from them a woman reads a book with blue sprayed edges. beyond a group of people has brought chairs and an umbrella. a group of people is grilling. a group of people is drinking beer. on the branches above us a piece of paper flutters, gleams: a puzzle-piece, i think, until i learn that it is an H, the remnant of a "happy birthday" banner. a red ant crawls across my arm and then across my torso.
further, just outside, there are the flowers blooming white, pink, purple, orange, a brilliant unreal red; the woman speaking italian-accented german; the regular thunk of tennis balls; the placid babble of a baby in a café; the string of toddlers crossing a road as a robin sings ecstatically overhead. a line from a novel floats across my mind, unmoored from its context, meaning here only what it has accrued in my life from years of days like these. a sparrow flutters and lands within touching distance. the moon is a sliver in the bright blue sky. the day is the longest it has been all year.
love,
t