Summertime, to me, is yellow because the sunshine makes the trees happy.
When the tulips and daisies and wildflowers sway by the roadside
as I drive along the highway to home, I am all filled up with yellow.
My little son plays games and sings and talks to himself in my rearview mirror,
and from the backseat occupies the hours, long and quiet.
Our dusty van, filmed with soot and sad insects (who flew to their unsuspecting
demise) glides down the road toward a blue horizon and home.
Summertime is blue, too. When we stop near a town called Cedar City for a sprinkled donut, all pink and green and BLUE.
While there, a stranger, a man, offers to buy our treat. Though gracious, I smile
hesitantly. The dark shadows seem darker when alone.
Inside of our van, packed with suitcases and toys and books, we feel safe once again.
As I drive along the highway to home, I am all filled up with blue.
When the nighttime comes, in a lonely hotel room, the clock waits for a new day.
And yet again, the road is still there pointing to home.
Summertime is red when sunlight peeks through the window greeting the day.
The hotel breakfast is bland and tired.
More hours, more trees, more flowers, more road…
As I drive along the highway to home, I am all filled up with red.
down in a valley
in a caboodle of trees
by the foothills
is my town.
All of the colors collide. Yellow and blue and red.
As I drive along my street to home, I am all filled up with shades of brown.
The color of his hair
The color of home.
Note: My next post will be HOW I GOT MY VERY OWN AGENT STORY. Although I got “the call” in May and signed the contract in June, I wanted to wait until I was HOME to tell the story. So stay posted…:)