The late September rain beats against the Mazda 3, like God’s impatient fingers drumming against a wooden table. My tongue brushes the corner of my lips; it feels lower than usual. The glint of fifty water droplets catches my eye, as they hit the windshield and quickly disappear, like a finger pressed to memory foam. It's as though I'm in a fog, a state of indifference, maybe just the fall semester blues settling deep into my psyche.
I quietly admit to myself that a recent trip to Walmart was the highlight of my week. I remember nearly skipping through the revolving doors, scouring the rows of product, until I finally found the seasonal section. A row of endless Halloween supplies lined either side of the isle, and instantaneously, I felt like a child again. As my fingers grazed the cardboard boxes filled with orange and purple lights, I couldn't help but smile. For the first time in months, a fluttery sense of excitement that filled my stomach with utter joy consumed me, and sent a tension through my torso.
Upon returning home to a front porch embellished with three plump orange pumpkins my heart leaped out of my chest and I squealed like a piglet. All I wanted in that moment was to tear into the 7 boxes of lights I had just purchases and complete my little haven of "Happy Halloween" goodness. And soon enough, after hours of painstaking visual scrutiny filled with, "move that strand a little more to the left" or "drop that piece a smidge lower" until my fingers ached, my fall ball of violet spiders, jack-o-lanterns, cotton webbing, and nearly a hundred feet of lights was complete. Phew!
I quietly admit to myself that a recent trip to Walmart was the highlight of my week. I remember nearly skipping through the revolving doors, scouring the rows of product, until I finally found the seasonal section. A row of endless Halloween supplies lined either side of the isle, and instantaneously, I felt like a child again. As my fingers grazed the cardboard boxes filled with orange and purple lights, I couldn't help but smile. For the first time in months, a fluttery sense of excitement that filled my stomach with utter joy consumed me, and sent a tension through my torso.
Upon returning home to a front porch embellished with three plump orange pumpkins my heart leaped out of my chest and I squealed like a piglet. All I wanted in that moment was to tear into the 7 boxes of lights I had just purchases and complete my little haven of "Happy Halloween" goodness. And soon enough, after hours of painstaking visual scrutiny filled with, "move that strand a little more to the left" or "drop that piece a smidge lower" until my fingers ached, my fall ball of violet spiders, jack-o-lanterns, cotton webbing, and nearly a hundred feet of lights was complete. Phew!
