I’m sitting outside at lunch right now. The sun has been going behind the clouds and peeking back out. There is a dull roar of traffic from I-215 and a pretty strong breeze playing with the wispy hairs that have escaped from the knot I’ve tied my hair into. It feels so good to be out here. I’ve taken off my sandals and my bare feet are enjoying the cool green grass. I’ve finished eating my lunch and I have that full, warm feeling from eating the exact right amount of food.

The clouds in the sky look like a painting. There are huge puffy clouds close to me and a large array of the silvery cirrus clouds further away. The sky is mostly white with them. The wind is playing with them just like it plays with my wispy hair. They flow and change and move between my sentences.

If I were wearing white, I would worry about grass stains. Instead, I turn my body and lie on my stomach. I can feel the cool plants touch every part of my belly and legs. I can’t think of a more enjoyable way to spend a lunch hour: relaxing and writing to the roar of the traffic.