A Quiet Evening at Home
Last evening was pleasantly quiet. It is the Sunday of the Fourth of July weekend. The weather was perfect. The dogs were lying in contentment by my side on the porch. The breeze was gently rustling the leaves in the trees, and the birds were softly tweeting sweet lullabies to their young before the skies darken into night.
I sat reading a book and feeling such a sense of well-being. I leaned my head back and smiled to myself. The sky had a magical hue that made one thrill with the beauty of it. “What a perfect day,” I thought. The only way it could be more perfect would be if Peter was still alive and sitting across from me, like he used to sit. I sighed wistfully. “If pigs could fly… Huh!”
Somewhere from inside my head Peter chuckled. “Are you ever going to learn to be practical?”
“Why? I like me just the way I am. I am not hurting anyone!”
I could tell this was going to be quite a heated argument inside my head, and I was looking forward to it.
It was not to be, for just at that moment, an unsavoury looking youth, a stranger to our neighbourhood, came ambling down the street. He carried a boombox. His body was gyrating as if out of his own volition. His pants barely covered his private parts. His box boomed out, “F—! F—! F—!” My face formed a look of utter disgust as I watched him in disbelief! These obscene words were put into song form! Really? My eyes followed him in disbelief as he disappeared down the street. Now why did he do that? Why did he infringe into my little world and ruin the start my perfect day?