And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
Spring was slow in coming this year. Well, actually, it was slow, but it was also erratic. Here one day, gone the next, came back the next week. One day in the eighties, the next day in the forties. Hot enough for some folks to put on the a/c – but there would be a frost advisory overnight. Many of us were buying outdoor plants, but not planting them. We kept them in their little plastic containers and carried them out during the warm days, brought them in during the cold nights, and wondered if we would ever, ever, ever this year be able to sit on the deck and read, sit on the deck for a meal, sit on the deck at night and look up and count the stars…all without seeing our breath.
But this week – oh, this week. My doors and windows are open, night and day. The plants are outside and they look as relieved as I feel. Lots of rain, though – I haven’t had a meal outdoors yet because there hasn’t been enough time in between soakers for the cushions on my deck furniture to dry. But I have stood on the deck and breathed in the air and felt the warmth circulate throughout my entire self.
I am not an outside woman in the sense of hiking, biking, tennis, kayaking, or, God forbid, camping. My idea of camping is a hotel without room service. But I am an outside woman when it comes to relaxing on the deck with my face upraised to the sun. And then there’s my choice of car. During the warm(er) months, I drive an open-air automobile – a Chrysler 200 convertible.
This is my third Chrysler convertible. I’ve gone from the LeBaron – who I absolutely loved, and even featured in my novel, Hope Always Rises, to the Sebring, to, now, the 200. They were all named. They were, respectively, LeB (pronounced Luh-BEE), SeB (pronounce Suh-Bee) and Semi.
Why Semi? Because when I bought Semi, I also owned a Chrysler 300C Hemi, with an outrageous hemi engine. Hemi was named, well, Hemi, because there was just no other name for him. The engine was everything. When I brought the new used convertible home, and pondered what to name him, Michael said, “Well, Hemi is a 300. This is a 200. So he’s a semi-Hemi.” And Semi became Semi. I no longer have Hemi. I have a Chrysler 300S, without the hemi engine. His name is Barry, because his color is officially “berry”, but also because he would sound like Barry White if he could speak. And in my head, he does.
Semi, however, croons.
But Semi is also my deck on wheels. When I first pull out of my garage in the car, there is always a moment where I just put my face up to the sun and soak it in. When I get where I’m going and I throw him into park, I soak my face again.
And when I am in that car…I can do anything.
There were a few days here and there this supposed spring where it was warm enough to bring Semi out. I have heated seats, so I will drive him when it’s 55 degrees and up, with the seat roaring and the heater blasting. But this last week, I’ve been in him every day. Soaking in the sun every day. Deep-breathing the air every day, even the days we were under an Air Quality Advisory due to the smoke from the Canadian fires blowing our way. I’m asthmatic. And I didn’t care.
But then…it was a warm evening. Still hovering in the 70s. Sun still out at almost 8:00. I was supposed to be reading manuscripts for the next day.
But I wasn’t.
I was in that car. Music up. Heading toward…Dairy Queen and a medium caramel Moo-latte. Sheer and utter decadence.
I wasn’t the only one who had the same idea. As I approached DQ, I saw the line of cars stretched through the parking lot and out onto the street. I got in line. It would be a wait.
And like an asthmatic breathing deep during an Air Quality Advisory, I didn’t care.
I rested my head back and sang with the music, even though the top was off and the windows were down. Others sang with me. I raised my face to the sun. I did so much more than soak.
I sank. I reveled. Spring was gone.
Summer was here.
Nothing else mattered.
Well, until I headed back home, still singing, still sunning, but now with a medium caramel Moo-latte in my grip.
Heaven.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.

