Mental Flights

On nights as deliciously springy, warm, and inspired as tonight's weather ends an April, I find that riding Bup through town is now totally different. With each blooming magnolia tree to the bright red and purple tulips, I keep wanting to get home, get Noah and ride bikes all over the place until the stars come down and we find ourselves at the ice cream shack. This is the kind of night where we would eat dinner and then announce that it is a perfect night to crush the ball some, grab some quarters to pay for the lighting, and head down to the tennis courts.
These are things we would do on a night like tonight for the past 10 years or so. This night is different and as Richard says, there is a little grief in the happiness. Nibbles is there sleeping in the other room cute as a bug hanging on a bloom and we enjoyed the back porch over dinner and a movie. Telling Noah I feel some grief for those days being on temporary hold. I wonder out loud, will we even do those things again? Who knows? New things will and always present themselves and bring great joy, so I fret not. I mean, hey, we just looked around for bike carriers for bambinas today. Turns out she's a little small. Bummer. We will wait.
ANyhow, so to go to those places we played the game Mental Flight. I suggest it to anyone. At first, I thought, why do that... it just brings it home that you are not on at that place of memory. HOwever, it was a total blast.
It goes like this... you take yourself to a place and walk around it telling the things you see, smell, etc.
Here's mine...
We swayed to the post and heard the gentle thump. Stepping over the metal grating as the weight slams the ramp down. There is a splash and we step onto dry land and some old grey/black asphalt. Walking up a small hill, passing the giant Moby Dick scultpure in the Old Folks Lawn, and breath in the smell of fried clams. Its cold out and we all have on sweaters and summer pants with flip flops. WE continue up the street, turn right, and head past the bakery and the general store. Up the street we go, past the restaurant on the right with the great big white veranda an its soft shell crabs. Then we see it, the spotlight shining on the sign inviting us in for a scoop of ice cream. Jupiter has been waiting for it all evening. We go up to the counter, which hits you at chin level and order up a scoop or two. We head out to the bench by the village hall and lick to our hearts content as Jupiter rides back on the shoulders of Mark back to the ferry past the Fudge Guy. Super fun.