Just for a Minute

The nice thing about summer is that it doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry.

By the time I get home, there’s still enough daylight to convince myself I have all evening ahead of me. I could mow the lawn. I could write. I could finally put away the stuff that’s been sitting in the garage since I said, “I’ll deal with that this weekend.”

Instead, I sit down.

Somewhere down the street, a kid is laughing so hard that I can’t help but smile, even though I have no idea what’s funny. A basketball bounces a few times before someone remembers it’s supper time.

A truck rolls by slower than it needs to.

The neighbour waters flowers that somehow survived another winter. Mine are still alive too, which feels like they’re doing most of the work.

There’s a smell in the air that only shows up this time of year. Barbecue, fresh-cut grass, sunscreen, and dust. If someone figured out how to put it in a candle, I’d probably buy it.

The dog stretches out on the deck like he’s had the longest day imaginable. My tea is already cooling off beside me. I keep taking little sips anyway.

Every now and then, I hear my son through the open window. He’s talking to himself, or singing, or negotiating with a stuffed dinosaur. It’s hard to tell. At his age, those are basically the same thing.

A couple walks past with a stroller.

My neighbour waves.

I wave back.

Nobody says anything.

The trees move just enough to remind me there isn’t much wind.

For a few minutes, there isn’t a phone in my hand. I’m not thinking about tomorrow’s schedule or the email I forgot to answer or the paragraph that isn’t quite working. The weeds can stay where they are for one more night.

The sky changes without asking for attention. Blue gives way to gold, and then the gold starts slipping behind the rooftops.

It isn’t a remarkable evening.

Nothing happened that will turn into a story later.

No one got locked out of the house.

Nobody escaped in their pyjamas.

No dogs stole hamburgers or rolled in anything questionable.

It’s just another June night in a neighbourhood full of people living their own ordinary lives.

The tea is cold.

The mosquitoes finally find me.

I stay for another minute anyway.