I think she might have been surprised at how flat and open Illinois is compared to the part of England where she hails from. It looks especially open this time of year with all the empty cornfields waiting. As we drove by in my little car, I told her stories about what it was like growing up here. She told me stories about what it was like growing up there.
The two-hours in the car went by in no time at all. In no time at all, we were putting a large red, blue and yellow plaid blanket on the riverbank in my backyard by the old white oak tree, setting up lunch for Cheryl’s Zen Picnic.
It’s not spectacularly beautiful in my old backyard at this time of year—even though I’ve managed to push the weather to early spring. Okay well, it is to me, but I can understand why others wouldn’t think so. The sky isn’t as blue as some might think it should be. The grass isn’t as green as some might say it should grow. But we have a blanket, some food, and plenty of wine, Cheryl’s music on the CD player whenever we want, and big pillows for leaning back on.
We really can’t tell when the music’s on or off, that’s how peaceful the riverbank is and how calming the company is too. Maybe it has something to do with leaning back on big pillows to look up through the trees at the sky, like a couple of kids with nothing to do. It’s nice having all of the time in the world, here on a Zen picnic with Cheryl waiting for you to join us, on the riverbank in my backyard by the big white oak tree.
We have plenty of food, wine, and room on the blanket, and pillows for leaning back to look up at the sky.
—me strauss Letting me be