thursday/blue

(gorgeous color in the most unlikely places-- this is the back wall of one of my favorite thrift stores)

I had some time to myself tuesday evening. um, let me rephrase that-- I demanded the car and took off like a wild banshee into the thick summer night. (not exactly true, though ridiculously poetic). but I had this time, see-- and I had no idea what to do with myself. I drove and drove and drove around in large city block circles while I thought, the possibilities all tangled up in my mind. I could sit at the neighborhood coffee joint and read my book and make small collages. I could eat dinner someplace new. I could go to the movies. I could walk the aisles of the bookstore without a 26 pound toddler attached to my hip. I could go hunting for aqua and brown-colored things for the july swap. I could do some thrift store shopping. what should I do, what should I do? wait, maybe I should be taking a dance class. or a yoga class! isn't there a tuesday night yoga class at the Y? what am I doing driving around like this? all this time to myself and I didn't know the whats or the hows, whys or whens. I wanted to do everything but knew I had to get serious about the focus of the evening-- I was dangerously close to squandering my night of freedom.

naturally, I ended up wandering the aisles of target. I bought pajama bottoms I didn't need. I spent thirty minutes at the book store trying to justify a potential twenty dollar purchase. I was feeling antsy so I exited said book store (sans books) for more driving, more wind-blowing my hair all crazy-like, more spectacularly loud music-playing. I waited in the mcdonald's drive thru for what felt like seven years (SEVEN YEARS) for a small diet coke. I sat in the parking lot of the movie theatre and waited for my brother, snacked on goldfish crackers (flavor blasted!) and read my book. we were the only two in the theatre for the 10:15 showing of art school confidential so we talked freely throughout about the hits and misses of the film. and then I drove home. when I finally turned into our driveway and pulled the keys out of the ignition, I wanted to sit. I wanted to be quiet, I didn't want to move. I could make out flickerings of the lightening bugs (hooray for lightening bugs) and decided I didn't feel like getting out of the car just yet. I worked on an ipod playlist and drew a picture of a skirt I'd make if I knew how to sew. it felt like an hour had passed before I caught the silhouette of my husband in the dark. he was walking slowly towards the car so as not to startle me. I felt like I was in high school all over again, like I had been caught doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing-- a bit sheepish that he'd had to come out there for me like that. I had the sudden urge to cover up what I was working on and lie about how long I'd been sitting in the car. but I didn't. instead, I found myself wanting to get out of the car, wanting to hold his hand, wanting to go with him inside the house.