The Yellow Line

This weekend I walked down the middle of a road, on the yellow line.  There was one street lamp, there were no cars.  There was some skipping. After living away from the woods for as long as I have, it’s always nice to go visit my friends Holly and Ben up North.  They don’t really live in the woods, but where they are the trees are not relegated to grow in a small square in the concrete or below the telephone wires.   It’s just far enough out that I feel away from my everyday life. 

We went to a neighborhood party.  One couple brings the entire street together – it may be accurate to say that no one would talk to each other if it weren’t for Sandy and Tim (if I remember correctly and haven’t changed their names for their own benefit and protection.)  But they throw this party every year – I think we were all standing in their driveway actually.  Grill, foods, lawn games, beers, some strange margarita concoction that one of the neighbors had won an award for at another party.  An “award.”  They were probably the last margarita served and it knocked everyone out.  This weekend it was served without ice.  Oh, yes and there was an ice luge.  You could choose between some pink concoction or some margarita or straight-up vodka.  It was a fun, funny, strange, stranger, scene.  There was even a party crasher from the town over.  Did anyone know her?  It didn’t matter. 

There are no photos from this event.