Beer, blankets and sunsets

That time of year the days outlast us, the sun comes through the trees and into our family room around 9 PM.

Saturday night with Cat Stevens, the girls’ dramatic dance interpretations of Peace Train, the irony that my mom would remarry a guy who played as a studio sweetener in London, then, whose guitar may be in the background, now. Me in the 70s pulling out the tape from the 8-track and leaving it a mess on the floor, for my dad. Growing up with a Cat Stevens calendar: a picture of him sweaty, bare-chested and bearded, for me to mark the days off, 1975.

We sleep in past 8 AM, and the dog licks the bottoms of my feet. Charlotte comes in and asks if it’s a school day, and climbs into bed with us. We play an iPhone recording of Lily telling the story of Hansel and Gretel in 2010, and I cut over to “Wild World.”

The days are long in some ways and other ways, not.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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3 Responses to Beer, blankets and sunsets

  1. Sounds like you are having a great time. What brought on the nostalgia? the liqueur?


    • pinklightsabre says:

      Yes, Daryl – having a great time alright! Pretty much always nostalgic, don’t need any help with that…thanks for reading my post today!


  2. Armine says:

    /man rotbe 40 azmon sarasary shoadm age az man mishnavid va3 kasi ke khonde bod kheyli rahat bod albate movafegham ke soalate well test ye meghdar mobham bod ba omid movafaghiate hamaton


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