The other night, I was listening to Van Morrison eating dinner on the balcony, humming along to “Moondance” without a moon in the sky.
On this particular night, Van is nowhere to be found, “Moondance” does not play on the record player, though I hum to it while eating dinner — Indian food again (but no Thai this time to marry her with). And directly before me, the moon smiles at me.
This night is a little different from the other. The bay is a deep cobalt blue, and the boat houses sit on it like the Lego sets from my childhood. If I stretch my arms long enough, I can pluck them off the sheet of water. The boats do not seem to move. The clouds in the distance no longer resemble ice cream scoops but are fluffy and still a brilliant white nestling among some grey, hovering above the Bay Bridge and the city skyline. The green on the trees are more vivid than normal; and I find myself checking my glasses to see if I am wearing blue blockers or not. I’m not. The world was just that impressive this evening.
Rewind to this morning.
Taylor and I skipped our normal hike for a normal walk, though we did go through Sherwood Forest. Before long, we spotted Bambi and his brother. Spotting us before we did them, they stared us down before gracefully galloping away. Most definitely young bucks, I’d seen them a handful of times in the neighborhood. They have yet to bring over an apple pie for Taylor and I.
In the evening after another walk through Sherwood hoping for another glimpse and glance at Bambi, with a possible photo shoot that ended unsuccessfully, we were home and I decided to cook an Indian meal for five people that were never invited and never came. Leftovers for me, including some of my staples – south Indian Kerala chicken curry with potatoes, curried potatoes, curried rainbow chard, and shredded carrots with rice and tomato, onion raita.
Fast forward to this moment.
While I was happily enjoying my meal on the balcony immersed in the view before me, Taylor spotted Bambi’s girlfriend to tell her that he’d met Bambi earlier in the day. All was good. Come on up for some grub. But she was busy eating the leaves of the shrubs on the ground.
While I finished painting two pieces I’ve been working on these last few months — one of Lands’ End and the Cliff House, and another a creepy, menacing one of The Joker — Taylor settled himself onto his bed. I couldn’t help but swaddle him. Some nights, Taylor loves to be tucked in. Tonight was one of those nights.
It wasn’t long before Taylor sleep-walked back out onto the living room, with his blanket still on him, giving me a look that even he didn’t understand, before plopping on the floor. He plops. He’s a plopper.
And so the day and night ended on a high note.
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ALWAYS BE EPIC.