The sun lasted all day and never showed wear or rag. In fact, it hid most of the day and let rain massage the pond. Still, in the mix of cool and warmth, something of the day around early evening seemed to stretch a little longer than usual, like the last note of an aria or the last dance with a soon-to-be-ex-lover.
I walked all thirty pounds of her around the pond this evening, her toddler head resting on my shoulder, so weary from a day well squealed and named. A patch of purple on the pond’s edge caught my eye, and I stopped and stooped and drew her attention to it. “Look,” I said and pointed for her lazy eyes, “It’s the last iris of the spring. The last one.” She nodded and humored me as if what I said meant something other than the fact.
And I wanted it to mean something, wanted the flower’s lithe purple lips to say a few words about what it means to be the last instead of the first. Like the last to leave a party or the last living among her friends as if she were having such a good time she just didn’t want to give it all up, fold in her petals, and pack it all up for the season.
But the flower remained silent and still as if it just wanted to take in this last look of the pond as the sun, just in time, cracked open the clouds and spread its round yellow kisses across the water. Farewell. Farewell. Farewell.
And with that, she and I headed back home.
What were the three highlights of your solstice day? Share them below – and let us know where you’re writing from.
See you in the woods,
The 3 Highlights Guy