- An impromptu a cappella tear through “Bohemian Rhapsody” that starts in ragged three-part harmonies and collapses into helpless laughter on the kitchen floor.
- Tiny sidewise flick of the wrist answered by the hiss of fishing line on the reel and, much later, a faraway splash.
- The passage from full sun into leafy shade, and the incremental temperature drop.
- A tug on the starter rope yielding a finely-calibrated resistance and then the satisfying roar of a small gas engine.
- The thump and smack of baseball into mitt.
- An idea, then another, turning in your head like 3-D puzzle pieces, then locking together. Then another. And again.
- Cat’s sandpaper tongue against your thumb.
- Cottonwood tree’s leaves rippling in a stiff breeze like half a million little green flags, and banishing Cole Porter from your mind’s ear long enough to hear it for what it really is.
- First sip of shandygaff, mixed cold in a plastic cup on a hot day.
- Success against odds; virtue rewarded. The first and truest of pleasures.
Sunday, July 03, 2011
Posted by Jack Feerick at 8:24 PM