A Breeze

Last night when we got home from work, Cam got busy putting frosted film on the window in the shower, so we can bathe without shocking the neighbors. We had a pillowcase over it for a while, but the mildew was becoming unbearable. Anyway, in helping him, I learned how to open the windows in our place in such a way that you can flip them flat and wash the outsides. I knew they had this feature, but hadn't mastered it, but now I've got it. So while he finished the film and moved on to the blue room to hang shelves, I made my way from window to window, sliding, flipping, spraying, washing, wiping, and flipping again. Now they sparkle, the raindrop residue and the kitten noseprints are gone. In the bedroom, I left the tops open and propped myself up in the bed, listened to a great mix a friend passed along and enjoyed the breeze. Today's commute was cool and breezy, fall-like, and when I walked into work I remarked about it to my colleague, who has an infant son we call Pico. He too was moved by the breeze - last night, he scooped up Pico and headed outdoors, just so Pico could feel it ruffle his hair. "Pico," he said, "that's what a breeze feels like."