It’s a beautiful day. The temperature is hovering around 70 degrees. I am ambling out in my parent’s backyard looking for photo opportunities. My mother comes pulling around their driveway under the portico and rolls down her window to speak to me.
“What are you doing?” She asks.
“I was hoping to get some pictures of your camellias,” I reply. “But the buds haven’t opened yet.”
“You really have enjoyed that camera,” She says.
“More than you will know,” I reply as I grin.
Mom pulls on into her garage as I walk over to give her a hug. She narrowly misses her maid’s Chevrolet as she passes by. My mother is a horrible driver and is renowned for hitting the garage door. I cross my fingers as her car slowly inches into the garage unscathed. I let out a sigh of relief. It reminds me of my fear of flying and the most scary and dangerous part where the plane lands.
We walk up into the kitchen. My mother’s cats are anxiously waiting to be fed and are under foot. The smell of frying chicken wafts out from the kitchen.
“Hey Helen,” I say to my mother’s maid and cook. “That smells delicious. What else are you cooking besides fried chicken?”
She gives me a long hug and tells me she is cooking macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, and green beans. She asks if I am coming over for supper around five.
“I wouldn’t miss a meal like this,” I reply.
“Have you gone on your hike today?” My mother then asks.
“No, not yet,” I reply. “I noticed this morning when I went to get a newspaper that they are working on the rails in the rail yard. I think I will hike down and take some pictures this afternoon.”
“I could never walk that far,” My mother says. “I can only walk for thirty minutes and I am given out.”
My mother’s maid then cuts a small piece of chicken breast and puts it into a left over biscuit from breakfast and hands it to me.
“Try this and tell me how it is,” She says as she smiles softly.
I eat the biscuit. The fried chicken is hot and I breathe in and out briskly to cool it off in my mouth.
“That is delicious,” I reply. “Can I have another for the road?”
Helen cuts another piece of chicken breast placing it in another biscuit and hands it to me.
“I am glad you like it baby,” She says.
I tell them both goodbye and make my way back to the yard as I look for more photo opportunities. A brisk and warm southerly wind blows. I stand in the warm sunlight and thank my higher power for days like this. Just like most things in life, the weather will soon take a turn for the worse as a storm is predicted to move in. I must enjoy this last vestige of spring while it lasts. Cold days are on the way as winter will reemerge with a predicted vengeance.