Till Tuesday

            Yellow sun, endless blue skies with occasional puffy clouds, and 96 degrees: it was a typical—though rather hot for May--Oklahoma sort of day.  My OWFI (Oklahoma Writers’ Federation, Inc) roommates and I were traveling back to Bartlesville from a whirlwind of a weekend in Oklahoma City.

            Put three or four writers in a van after a writers’ conference and there are no lack of words.  We talked.  And we talked.  And we talked.  And we talked.  The miles flew by.  Almost too soon, it seemed, the van pulled into my driveway to let me off.  I bid good-bye to my new friends and wondered how hot my house would be.

            The cool air inside my well-shaded home was a pleasant surprise.  After all, I had not even turned on the air conditioning.  I plodded around in this suddenly sad and too-quiet space, unpacking my suitcase straight into the laundry basket and putting away everything else in record time before my Sunday afternoon nap.

            I texted my daughter—“I’m home.”  Her reply was an invitation to dinner.  Sadness banished, I stepped out into the Oklahoma heat, anticipating a glorious greeting from both grandchildren and conversation with Dana and Shawn worked in between verses of “The Wheels of the Bus” and the “ooh-ooh-ooh-hah-hah-hah” of monkey games.  Writing work would have to wait till Monday, and the air conditioning till Tuesday.