After class, Lynn and I stepped onto the driveway that separated her yoga studio from her house.
"Look at you," I said, "walking through the dirt in your socks. And they're white."
She grinned. "Yeah. My mom would yell at me, if she were here."
"That's the best part of becoming a responsible adult––getting to do all those things."
She nodded. "I eat ice cream out of the box, too."
"I drink from the carton."
"Milk," we said in unison.
She headed toward her house and glanced back over her shoulder. "Peanut butter out of the jar."
It was lunchtime when I arrived home. I gobbled forkfuls of leftover chicken salad right out of a Pyrex dish, while standing in front of the refrigerator with its door wide open. Delicious.
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"Look at you," I said, "walking through the dirt in your socks. And they're white."
She grinned. "Yeah. My mom would yell at me, if she were here."
"That's the best part of becoming a responsible adult––getting to do all those things."
She nodded. "I eat ice cream out of the box, too."
"I drink from the carton."
"Milk," we said in unison.
She headed toward her house and glanced back over her shoulder. "Peanut butter out of the jar."
It was lunchtime when I arrived home. I gobbled forkfuls of leftover chicken salad right out of a Pyrex dish, while standing in front of the refrigerator with its door wide open. Delicious.
Recent posts:
Pomona College Final Exam
Courage
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