When the gentle whispers of Springtime air turned into what felt like a blow-dryer in my face on full speed, I knew it was time to go inside and work on a different project that should have been completed last year. I should have turned it out into the wind to see whose yard it might find itself in. Commitments.
Last night at about midnight I stuck a couple of quarters and nickles in a vending machine in the staff lounge and clicked the 4th button. A plastic bottle of Big Red soda tumbled down. I sat it on the table, twisted off the plastic bottle cap and took a big swig of it. It’s the same as I remembered. As a kid, I liked Big Red. My mom wasn’t too keen on us drinking soda pop but she allowed us to have one especially if it didn’t have all that caffiene flowing through. I drank a few while I was pregnant last year and found the red soda to be the most wonderful thing on the planet. Being pregnant will do that.
My journal was situated in my bag so that when I came back on my lunch break, I could write another private entry about life. That entry was about the bread and butter sandwich. That was not uncommon back in the day. A slice of white Wonder bread, with some butter spread from one side to the other, folded in half, and that was all that was needed to get through the afternoon on the swing in the warm sunshine. The bread and butter sandwich was also very popular for the days I planned on making a treck across the planet. My mom would pack up a couple of those, include a sandwich bag of potato chips, an apple, and if we were lucky, a sweet. All this packed in a satchel and off we went far and away. Sometimes the trip was to Chaparral Park in the Galaxy 500.